


Everything Backwards

by buckybabybaby



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nanny, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hate to Love, Other, Slow Burn, gender neutral reader, not really enemies but...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybabybaby/pseuds/buckybabybaby
Summary: When you make-out with a 'James' on a night out, you don't expect to see him again, so imagine your surprise the next day when it turns out he'll be your new sort-off-flat-mate. As Nanny for Peggy & Steve's three children, you've lucked out, but now the guy across the corridor is threatening to ruin it all.This is the story of how it works out.*Complete!*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been sitting on this series since march, so I decided it's time to share.  
> I've written most of the next chapter, and got six (6!) pages worth of plot points and random dialogue without a scene to go in yet, so I think this series will be a long one.  
> I really hope people like it!  
>  Moodbaord I made!

You're not entirely sure how you've got in to this situation. Ending up in the arms of the most attractive guy in the club isn't exactly what you expected to happen when you went out to celebrate one week of your new job, and whilst you are enjoying it, you've clearly had too much to drink if the dizziness is anything to go by.

Gently pushing him away from your mouth and breathing deeply to calm yourself, you look around for your friends, but they're nowhere to be seen. Closing your eyes, you try to remember what the hell just happened.

You're brought suddenly back to reality by a hand to your shoulder, and as you sheepishly meet the gaze of your new acquaintance, you can't help but stare.

“You alright?”

“Just, um...” this man is very pretty, and it's thrown you off thought, “Do you know where Natasha and Wanda have gone?”

He shrugs, and attempts to bring you back in to kiss, but only succeeds in knocking you off balance into his chest. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and just breathe as he laughs, holding you closer. Finding your feet again you pull away and squint at the dance floor.

“They were here, I don't... where would...” trailing off you glance back at the man in confusion.

Swaying a bit you attempt to move back to lean on the wall, but as his arms are still around you you end up falling against him again, this time clinging to his t-shirt to ground yourself. You really need to leave this loud flashing room before it overwhelms you.

“Do you want to go outside?” he asks, pushing aside the hair in front of your face.

You nod at him, pulling away and leading him from the dance floor to the stairs. Surprisingly, you find your self able to walk without stumbling, and make quick work of the steps to the roof garden. 

Fresh air. Just what you need. Your new friend follows you quickly and you're once again struck by how attractive he is, especially under the fairy lights, all soft hair and bright eyes.

You swallow dryly as he looks you over with a smirk, before meeting your eye and grinning.

“Feeling better?” You nod.

“Can you see your friends?” Glancing around, you let out of sigh of relief as you spot them over by the fire escape. You point them out.

“Good.”

Leading you over to the wall trellis, he pushes you against it gently, and claims your mouth again.

This time you're much more aware of what's going on. His lips are soft and taste of whisky and sugar, the little bit of scruff he's sporting scraping you in the best way, and your hands wind up in his hair which is just as silky as it looks. You share a few very pleasant teasing kisses, but it comes to an abrupt end when you realise something quite important.

“Wait wait, wait a second,” you press a finger to his chest, ignoring how firm it is so you don't get distracted again, before asking, “What's your name?”

There's a beat of silence as he licks his lips, looking like he's trying not to laugh. “James, darling.”

His name suits him, you think, almost letting him lean in once more before you have another thought.

“Do you know mine?”

Again silence, but at least this time he has the decency to look a little embarrassed. He shakes his head.

“Y/N.”

You do laugh, but more in relief that you both were unaware of the others name when you started making out. You allow him to kiss you again, his hand under your top this time, but seconds later you're pulling away as a voice makes you both jump.

“Y/N! So this is where you've been hiding, who's your _friend_?”.

You look up at Natasha, feeling James move his hands to your waist, but not letting you go completely.

You scoff at her. “Considering you abandoned me, I'm not entirely sure I'm the one hiding.”

“We didn't 'abandon' you, if anything we had to leave, it was getting too hot in there.”

She's smirking and you feel yourself flush, introducing James to her and Wanda to hide your embarrassment. They grin at him and then you, unnervingly, and you decide that a private discussion is needed, dragging them towards the foyer with a quick 'stay here' thrown James' way. You move too fast to catch his reply.

***

“Oh my, Y/N!”

Two very tipsy girls are screaming in your ears and you can't help but laugh along with them, swept up in the madness. The entrance hall is empty for once so no one can complain about the squealing.

“Okay, but that guy is so hot!” Natasha is jumping up and down next to you, an impressive feat in her heels. “The way he was holding you...” she murmurs, looking dazed, before laughing again, “The things he could do to you!”

You choke a bit, sharing a look of amusement with Wanda, before noting, “I think he's only holding me like that because I keep falling on him.”

The face Natasha pulls has you confused. “You're falling for him? Bit soon is-”

You interrupt quickly. “No! I said on, falling on him, as in over.”

The thought that your friends might think you'd 'fall' for some guy an hour after meeting, knowing absolutely nothing about him, has you laughing in horror. They join in, and you all cling to each other in hysterics, looking slightly crazy but not caring at all. When you can all breathe again you stand and check your appearance in one of the mirrors decorating the walls.

Placing a hand on the glass to stop yourself from face-planting the lipstick stained surface, you take a few deep breaths, before straightening up and spotting your closest friends reflected behind you.

“Ready to face loverboy again?” Wanda asks.

You squint at your reflection, then hers, then Natasha's who's making very suggestive gestures with her hands.

“He's not gonna know what hit him,” you wink, then walk out, accompanied by wolf whistles and screams of 'go get him'.

“We'll be at the bar if you need us,” Natasha says, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and disappearing towards the stairs.

You wave at their backs, smiling widely then take a few steps into the garden, scanning the crowd for James.

***

It's ten minutes later and you're pretty sure he's gone.

The bar is bare of your friends by the time you give up and go to find them, so you order the strongest drink you can handle and sit down to sulk. It isn't like you were actually going to go home with him, but still, you quite liked the confidence that having a guy that attractive all over you had given you. Wincing as you take another sip, you decide you aren't going to let him ruin your night, and, readjusting your outfit and hair, hop off the bar stool and head to the dance floor to find Natasha and fill her in.

She pouts at you and you pout back.

“Dance with me instead Y/N, I'm sure he was gross anyway.”

She pulls you into the middle of the mass of gyrating people, and the next hour is spent twirling and giggling without a care in the world.

***

The worst part of any night out is always trying to find a cab prepared to take you home at a price you can afford, and, as the alcohol wears off you start to feel the cold.

“Success!” Natasha finally calls to you. “Lets get you home, Y/N. Or you can stay at mine if you want?”

You follow her to the taxi and slide in beside Wanda. “That's kind of you, but even though I'm not working tomorrow it's probably best I'm there, just in case.”

You only started this job six days ago and you don't want to jeopardise anything this early on. Also, your new amazing mattress is calling you, sounding a lot more appealing than squishing in with these two who always steal the covers.

The heating inside the car is making you very sleepy, so you're glad your stop is the first, hugging your friends goodbye before tripping out the vehicle and up the stairs, fumbling with your keys. Pushing open the door gently and slipping through the gap, you watch your friends wave as they pull away.

Alone in the dark hallway you allow your eyes to adjust for a second. Thankfully your room is on the ground floor and you move slowly towards the end of the passage, careful to not make any noise, swearing quietly as the hinges on your door squeak. You know you'll feel a lot better in the morning if you freshen up now so you grab your toothbrush as you search for your moisturiser, before drinking a full glass of water to help with your head.

The room's spinning when you finally fall in bed, so you close your eyes against it all and almost immediately slip into unconsciousness.

***

You have yet to experience a Sunday morning in this house, so the unofficial wake up call when people start crashing around at eight am is unexpected to say the least. Rolling over in bed you attempt to fall back asleep but your brain is suddenly very alert, and you stare at the ceiling as memories come flooding back.

Did you really make out with that guy? You try to recall his face but draw a blank, only managing to picture bright blue eyes and soft hair, cringing as you remember you didn't even know his name for half the time he was kissing you. James. You haven't forgotten it, even if you cant quite conjure up an image of him.

With a sigh, you decide moping in bed is the worst thing you can do and promptly push up from the pillows to get ready for the day. If the screaming outside your door is anything to go by, you may be needed to work after all.

***

The water you drank last night seems to have helped a lot, as there is only a dull throb in your skull as you move to the kitchen for breakfast. A headache you can deal with. As you are staring at the many different cereals in the cupboard, trying to decide how much sugar you want, a voice startles you.

“Have fun last night Y/N?” Mr Rogers, Steve, as he's asked you to call him, is leaning against the counter watching you and you pray for the earth to swallow you up.

This is it, you think. Maybe he saw you come in last night and was horrified by how intoxicated you were. Or maybe someone posted a video somewhere of you with that guy and the Rogers' have decided you were not the right person for the job after all. Your heart rate picks up as you think through all the possible situations.

“We need to have a talk.”

Oh no. You can feel tears pricking but if this is it then you're determined to hold on to your dignity. Forcing yourself to meet his eye, you frown as he looks almost guilty. He looks you over too and must notice how distressed you are as he immediately takes both of your hands in his, smiling kindly at you.

“I'm sorry to have to do this to you,” he begins.

So you are being let go. You decide to forsake your pride for once, this is the greatest job you've ever had, ever, and result to begging.

“Please, it won't happen again, I promise, I just drank a little too-”

He cuts you off. “Whatever you think this is, it's not.”

Steve looks sincere so you let him proceed. “What you do in your free time is none of my business. Today's your day off and you're still up before nine so I'd say you were entitled to it. And I didn't even hear you come in this morning, which is no mean feat considering the age of this house. So unless there's someone in-”

“There's not,” you interrupt.

“Well, good. Although I'd prefer you were safe somewhere you knew if you were going to do anything.” He trails off, looking embarrassed, clearing his throat as he gets back to his original point. “It's about your room.”

Okay, not so disastrous then. When you'd accepted this job as nanny for Steve and Peggy's children, the lovely room that came as part of the offer was a big draw. With a king sized bed opposite a large window with views over the garden, and the angle allowing the room to catch the afternoon light, it is the most pleasant bedroom you've ever stayed in and in less than a week you've made it your own.

You're confused about what could have gone wrong.

“I have a friend who desperately needs somewhere to stay. He pretends his place is all right but it's about five seconds from collapsing on top of him and I know he can't afford somewhere better so I offered him a place here.”

“You need me to move out?”

You try to think where you could live close to here, early mornings are a given in this job so it would have to be nearby, but in this part of town? It's not going to be cheap.

Steve once again reassures you. “Oh, no! Sorry Y/N, I should have started with that. Of course not, your room is part of your contract, that's not going to change.”

Relief washes over you and you can breathe a little easier.

“No, it's not like that, but you will need to share the bathroom.”

He goes on to explain that this guy is his best friend, has been since they were children, and has had a bit of bad luck recently. A bed is to be put in the study across from your room, but as there's only one shower on the ground floor it'll have to be a little more communal than you've gotten used to.

“If he leaves it untidy or anything don't be afraid to say something to him.”

Confrontation isn't your strong point but you agree anyway. “When is he moving in?”

“This afternoon.”

You gasp, realising that if you don't want to sound like a hypocrite if you ask him to be neat, you'll need to clear up before then. When you'd gotten ready last night it was in a rush and you'd left everywhere dishevelled. You just hadn't thought it'd have to be tidied so early.

“Sorry it's so short notice, but I need to get him out of there as soon as I can. He's been avoiding me seeing where he's living, but I forced him to show me and I can see why he's not been keen. He's like my brother and I need him to be safe.”

He looks so concerned about his friend and your heart melts. You knew Steve was a good man but this has you realising it all over again. A squeal comes from the next room along and he excuses himself, assuring you that he and Peggy will be able to cope; Sunday is 'Family Day' first and foremost. You're now free to return to the bathroom and evaluate the mess.

After the roller-coaster that was the last few minutes, there's a spring in your step as you start to clean.

***

At three o'clock, Peggy knocks on your door. Opening it and allowing her in, you're glad that you had a tidy up as you can see her checking it out surreptitiously.

“This is the neatest I've ever seen this room when someone’s been staying here. I'm impressed.” Peggy's approval pleases you greatly. “Whenever we don't have a nanny the house is a bit of a disaster!”

She smiles at you before leading you out to the garden. “Come and meet Steve's friend.”

You're slightly nervous now, even though you know that anyone Mr Rogers considers a brother must be a good person too, you still feel anxious as you follow Peggy across the decking and on to the lawn. All the children are gathered around the swing set, with Michael, the middle child, being held on the hip of a man with broad shoulders and thick dark hair.

As you approach Steve notices and beckons you forward.

“Y/N, meet Bucky.”

With that, the stranger turns around to face you and you freeze, feeling your blood run cold. Blue eyes meet yours and you can tell he recognises you too.

“Hello Y/N.”

James, or Bucky, apparently, looks just as good as he did a little over twelve hours ago. This is bad, you think. He's no longer wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but a soft looking sweater and sinful grey joggers. This is the worst thing that's ever happened, you decide.

He's watching you with a neutral expression, and you have to break eye contact as you feel heat rise up your neck. Steve is still talking and you try to concentrate on him, but regret is making you nauseous and you need to leave immediately, excusing yourself and just about running back to your room.

Why do things like this always happen to you? As you're trying to work out how to deal with this situation, someone clears their throat outside your door that you've forgotten to close, and you nearly fall off your bed when you look up to find Bucky.

He doesn't look happy to be there.

“I want to make sure this isn't going to be awkward. Lets just pretend we met for the first time five minutes ago, shall we?” You're frozen as he continues. “I think it's best, especially for you, wouldn't really want Steve and Peggy to know how you've been carrying on.”

There's silence after he finishes, he's staring you down and you can't look away.

“Carrying on?”

“Yeah, well, not very professional, is it?”

The smirk from yesterday is back but this time it's just mean. You bristle, and are about to defend yourself when he opens his mouth again and destroys any illusions you had about him.

“Don't want to ruin my reputation either. No offence, but you're not exactly my type.”

That is it. Clearly he's one of those guys blessed with good looks, who ruin it by being a massive douche. You're not the sort of person who'll allow someone to offend you and get away with it and you aren't going to let him leave without giving him a piece of your mind.

“Don't remember you complaining about me not being your type when you had your hand up my top last night,” you begin, pleased when he looks shocked at your outburst. You walk towards him as you speak, “And I agree, I wouldn't want anyone to know I had anything to do with you either.”

He seems to relax a bit at that and you can't help adding; “Wouldn't want anyone to know I had anything to do with a guy who's head is so far up his own backside he can probably see the light again.”

With that, you push him out of your doorway and shut it in his face. Leaning back against it, you close your eyes, knowing this is just the start of your acquaintanceship with Bucky, and dreading what is to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two of living with Bucky isn't any better...

Monday morning is obviously hectic at the Carter-Rogers' home, and as this is only the second one you've dealt with, you are understandably stressed. After your unpleasant reunion with Bucky yesterday, you'd spent the rest of the day in your room, skipping dinner and getting an early night. Which means you're now well rested but very fearful of bumping into your new house mate.

Steve and Peggy have already gone, a quick kiss to their children's heads before rushing out the door, so you're left alone to get three energetic kids ready for the day. Sports kits and history project waiting by the door, and jackets fastened against the early morning chill, you chivvy everyone out of the house and breath a sigh of relief when you glance at your watch. Plenty of time.

Taking the hand of the youngest, Joe, you begin to lead them along the road towards their school. Sarah, the oldest, skips ahead and her other brother Michael rushes to catch up. The very expensive street you now live on looks particularly pretty today with the new leaves blowing in the Summer wind, and you almost forget your worries until a quiet voice breaks through your thoughts.

“Did you meet Uncle Bucky?”

Joe is only just four, and quite shy with you, but he's slowly getting more confident as the days go by. His question has you realising just how big a part of your life Bucky will be; not only is he living with you all, but he's close enough to the children to be thought of as an uncle. You smile down at Joe and nod.

“Did you like him? He's really funny isn't he! He took me skating once and it was really fun!”

His enthusiasm is adorable, and you laugh along with him as he babbles. Your glad it seems like Bucky is not a dick around the youngsters. You feel kind of awful that you had considered he may be a bad influence on the minors in your care, but, after the interaction the two of you had had yesterday, you don't know what to expect. Joe is telling you about his time at the ice rink and you make sure to listen intently.

When you arrive at the school, he looks like he still has more to say and you promise to let him tell you it all when you pick him up at midday, being in preschool and finishing early meant you'll be back to collect him in a couple of hours. He smiles brightly at that and runs of happily to where his teacher is waiting. You hand Michael his sports bag, and ruffle his hair, sending him on his way before turning towards Sarah.

She's gone a little pale and you resist the urge to pull her into a hug, you're not sure you're that close yet. You know why she's frightened. On Saturday afternoon you'd helped her with homework all about Victorian Britain and today was the day she had to present it to her class. Aged nine it's understandable she's nervous. You know how much it means to her and your heart breaks a bit at the look of terror on her face.

“Your project is great, Sarah, really.” She doesn't look convinced so you lead her away from the main gate before crouching down to her height.

“Your mum looked it over, didn't she?” She half nods. “Well then, obviously it's amazing if Professor Rogers, head of history at the countries top University, didn't find any faults in it. You put together a really great presentation and I'm excited to hear how it goes, and so are your parents. Honestly, you're going to be brilliant.”

She looks a bit overwhelmed by your little speech, but the change in her mood is immediate, thanking you before accepting her backpack and running off to find her friends. Once you've made sure she's safely inside, you turn around to make the short journey home.

***

With no one to look out for on the walk, you're left with your thoughts and find yourself slowing down the closer you get to your street. This is ridiculous. You're not going to allow a potential run in with Bucky make you scared to enter what is essentially your home. With that thought you jog up the steps and unlock the front door.

It's silent inside and you're about to relax when you hear a crash from the kitchen, followed by swearing and the running of the tap. You really don't want to know what he's done, but, as it's the quietest day at the supermarket, and you have 3 hours to spare, you had decided that a shopping trip was the best job for this morning and you need to know what you're short off.

Closing your eyes briefly, you collect yourself before walking round the corner and promptly choking on air.

Bucky isn't wearing a shirt. You feel your heart start racing as you take him in, the pyjama bottoms he's wearing clinging to his impressive thighs, and as he turns from the sink you get a brief view of the bulge at his crotch. You follow the line of muscles there up to his chest and shoulders and finally his un-styled hair. He's got his thumb in his mouth and you frown at the look of pain on his face, evidently he's too distracted by whatever he's done to himself to notice you checking out his half naked body.

Glancing around, you see the cause of his injury. All the ingredients for a cooked breakfast are spread over the work surface, and the knife that was cutting tomatoes and the remaining uncut ones are strewn across the floor. You sigh and face him again.

“Do you need a plaster?”

He jumps, clearly not noticing you until you spoke. His eyes go hard when he looks over at you and you try not to flinch. “No.”

“No, thank you.”

“What?” He looks confused and you feel a jolt of satisfaction at that.

“I believe strongly in good manners,” you answer, reaching round him to open the fridge and scrutinise its contents.

“Fuck you, I'm not exactly one of your clients kids.”

At that you close the refrigerator door a little harder than necessary, making something inside it rattle, stepping to the side and opening the pantry. “I'd also appreciate it if you didn't swear around the children.”

Bucky looks pissed when you say that. “Of course I don't fucking swear around the children, who do you think I am? And who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?”

“I am their nanny, so I do have some say in regards to them.”

“And I've known them their entire life so I'm not going to start listening to advice from you.”

He's moved closer to you and you watch his chest moving up and down as he breathes heavily. How did this conversation end up here? Is it going to be like this every time you have to talk? All the fight goes out of you at that thought, and, not being sure what to say, you finish your list and grab the car keys off the peg.

“Do you need anything? I'm going to get groceries.”

He doesn't reply so you leave, sitting in the car for a full minute to calm yourself down before driving away. If the items are thrown a little too hard into the trolley when you're in the shop, well, it's better than throwing them at Bucky's face.

By the time you get home you're feeling a lot better, and the house is thankfully quiet. The pile of dirty dishes on the counter makes your mood slip a bit, but you've already decided that there's no way you're going to let him ruin the best job you've ever had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a week of living in the same house, is it getting any easier?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ the person who told me to add breaks in the text; thank you so much!  
> Honestly, I didn't know it was so bad, and I'm surprised anyone read it when it was such a mass of text...  
> Hope this is better!

By next Tuesday things have settled down a bit. You've figured out that Bucky has breakfast around nine in the morning, so you just avoid the kitchen until you hear him move back to his room. He always accidentally closes doors harder than necessary behind him, you've definitely noticed how strong he is so when Steve mentions Bucky has signed up at the fitness centre you aren't surprised.

Ten days in, and with only a half dozen words shared since the first morning, you are getting used to his presence. Tuesday means swimming lessons for all three children, and you're rushing out the door with their swim bags when you run straight into Bucky as he's leaving too.

“Gosh, sorry!” You apologise instinctively, slipping around him to jump the four steps to the pavement.

You pause when your brain catches up and you realise who it is. Turning back to him when he doesn't say anything, you notice he's carrying a gym bag and brace yourself before asking something you know you'll probably regret.

“Do you want a lift?”

“A what?” He doesn't look delighted at the offer but you push on regardless.

“A lift? The kids have lessons tonight so if you wanted-”

“Fuck no. I think I can walk five fucking miles by myself,” is all he says before he storms off down the road, leaving you speechless.

Well, that is the last time you even try with him you determine, as you stop staring after him and continue towards the car to collect the children. But you can't help but wonder, what exactly is wrong with him?

***

Joe's lesson is the first one to finish as he's in the very junior class, so you sit with him in the viewing area, the scent of chlorine washing over you as he stares at the older children in awe. Michael, age six so only a little older than his brother, waves from the shallow end and Joe jumps up excitably.

He then asks you to help him find Sarah, and you point her out, right at the other end of the pool, listening attentively as the instructor explains something to her group. He frowns as he watches her pull on some pyjamas, and shrieks as she slip into the water.

“Y/N! Sarah's going to drown! Save her!” He sounds incredibly distressed and you quickly lead him away from the other families and closer to the deep end where Sarah is.

“No look, it's okay, it's part of the swimming badge she's doing.” He's close to tears and you coax him to face the pool again to see what's going on. “All the others are wearing pyjama's too, it to help them build up the strength. Look!”

He finally glances towards the group. “She can even dive to the bottom wearing them! Isn't that impressive?”

The teacher high fives her once she places the brick she's just retrieved on the side, and you smile at Joe's look of wonder.

“Can I do that too?” He asks.

“Only when you're older,” a familiar voice sounds from behind, and you find yourself face to face with Bucky when you turn around.

“Uncle Bucky!” Joe screams at him, being picked up effortlessly by the large man, immediately talking his ear off about everything that just happened.

Bucky carries him over to sit near your bags, and you follow, leaving a seat between yourself and them and watching him interact with the four year old. He glances over when Joe mentions something you did, and you look away when you realise you've been staring. You can't help it though. He's always so sweet towards the children and your reaction to it confuses you.

Of course you wish he wasn't so horrible towards you, and that he had even a percentage of the respect he has for them for you, but also this is when he's at his most attractive. You can't believe this is the same man who swore at you earlier, and it frustrates you immensely. Thankfully, Michael's lesson is dismissed just then, cutting through your thoughts. You rise and motion for Joe to follow but Bucky stops him.

“I'll look after him while you help his brother.” It's not a question and your surprised he's willing to help. Obviously he adores the kids but doesn't he wants to get back home?

“You sure?” He nods and turns back to Joe, and you thank him before moving towards the changing rooms.

Michael is full of enthusiasm about what he did in his lesson and you grin as you dry his hair and help him fold up his towel, leading him out in to the foyer to the vending machine to pick out the snack his parents allow you to buy him. As he contemplates the chocolate bars his attention is caught by a laugh from the viewing section and you know what's coming.

“Is that Uncle Bucky?”

You reply in the affirmative and watch as he abandons his search for the perfect sweets to run full pelt towards where his brother is, not slowing down when he arrives so he ends up with a knee in Bucky's crotch as he crashes into them. Michael doesn't seem to notice, instantly beginning to tell him all about his day, and you smirk as Bucky winces and readjusts him in his lap. Choosing the packet of chocolate drops he'd selected last week, you move to join them, content to watch Sarah finish her lesson as the other two children are entertained by their uncle.

***

The oldest child is just as delighted to find Bucky waiting for her after her lesson. As she proudly shows off her newest badge and the certificate that comes with it, he has nothing but praise for her, encouraging her brothers to congratulate her too. The five of you amble slowly back along the drive to the main car park, and you watch with a small smile as Bucky picks each one up in turn to spin them around. He's so comfortable around them and you wonder what it is about you that makes him so defensive.

When you reach the car you help Joe with his child-seat as Sarah assists Michael with his seatbelt, and you're about to get in the drivers side when you notice Bucky awkwardly hanging beside the vehicle.

“I'll see you guys at home.” He's addressing the children and not you, and their frowns mirror your own.

“Where are you going?” His eyes lands on you and you think he's about to be rude to you again but he just sighs.

“Home too. I just...”, he trails off and looks down at the ground, “I thought I'd walk.”

“What? Why?” He doesn't look like he's going to reply, but Sarah speaks up to break the awkward silence.

“Uncle Bucky, you'll get a cold if you walk home without a coat in this weather.” She sounds very grown up and authoritative and you all glance at the drizzle beginning to fall.

Michael's voice pipes up from the middle seat. “If you get a cold who'll play football with me?”

The way he says it makes it sound like the worst situation imaginable and you see the beginning of a smile return to Bucky's face. He looks at you again and you raise your eyebrows at him, motioning to the passenger seat. Once he's opened the door and you're sure he's not about to run, you slide into your seat and click in your belt.

A hand comes to brush away the rain collected on your coats lapel, and the air in the car becomes heavy as you meet Bucky's eyes across the centre console. He stops as he seems to realise what he's doing, his eyes wide as you stare at each other. His gaze doesn't slip and you swallow. What is happening? Before anything can, the back of his chair is kicked and you both jump, turning to see all three children engaged in a silent fight over the control for the radio. Bucky reaches back to pluck it from them as you clear your throat and start the engine.

The tension in the car dissipates slowly on the journey home, and as you pull up outside the house you've almost forgotten what had gone on fifteen minutes ago. Putting the car in neutral, you watch as a cab pulls up in front of you and Peggy and Steve step out, the squealing from the back seats letting you know they'd seen them too. The Rogers' were hardly ever home before the children's bedtime so they're understandably excited about the early arrival of their parents. You unlock the back door on the pavement side and grin as they all pile out.

It's wonderful watching this family interact. The love between the parents is obvious, and they clearly adore all their children equally, feeling guilty for leaving them in someone else's care for so much of the day. Sundays are sacred though, nothing is allowed to intrude on family time.

You nearly jump out of your skin when Bucky speaks from beside you.

“You have to, er, open my door too.” He's quiet, and you can't hear any of the malice in his voice that's usually there when he talks to you.

You apologise quickly, pressing the button to release his side but he doesn't move. You turn to him and can see he's trying to say something.

“I just wanted to tell you, that, um,” he begins, and you breathe hitches as you think over all the things that may be about to happen. “I want you to know you were amazing earlier when Joe freaked out.”

Not what you were expecting and you almost feel disappointed. You give him a blank look. “It's kind of my job.”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Even so, you handled it very well. He's only little, he could have had a much worse reaction but you were there so he was fine.”

With that he's out of the car and up the steps into the house without a backwards glance. You remain in your seat for a while longer, thinking over everything that just occurred.

That was the first nice thing he's said to you. The realisation has you reeling a bit, but it is true, even during your half finished make out session just over a week ago he didn't pay you a compliment. Maybe he's thawing towards you? You really hope so, this evening had been so nice and it'd be a lot less awkward if you didn't have to avoid being in the same room as him all the time. You decide to disregard your earlier thought about not trying with him, maybe he just needs time to get used to you, and perhaps along the way you can teach him not to be such a dick.

With that in mind you finally exit the car and walk inside, thinking about what you should cook the unexpectedly-full household for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww Bucky <3 He is trying!  
> Also, do any cars have remote central locking on individual doors like that?? Maybe? It works for the story so they do now...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two week in, things go a little wrong...

With the horrendous aftermath of the last time you drank very fresh in your mind, you decide that this time when you meet your friends a late lunch is probably safer than anything involving alcohol. Yesterday was the last day of term for the children so their parent have taken them out to the cinema as a treat, giving you a free afternoon to do as you please with, and when you leave the house the sun is shining brightly. 

Today marks two weeks since you first met Bucky. Things have improved a little since that short exchange of words in the car after swimming; you two haven't actually talked yet, mainly because he stays in his room most of the time, but he doesn't look at you with so much contempt any more, and there was that incidence earlier in the week when he held the door for you as you struggled with shopping bags. A small start but one nonetheless. 

You sincerely hope that over the coming months you'll get to the point where you can hold a proper conversation with him. Sometimes, during a mundane task like hoovering or hanging the washing on the line, you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't kissed _that night_ , and how much easier it'd be if you knew him only as Bucky and not James. 

Dwelling on things that can't be changed isn't healthy but you can't stop yourself. That is why you need to see your friends, to get your mind off him and spend a couple of hours with people your own age who actually want to speak to you.

***

“Sarah, she's the oldest, and is so intelligent it's a little intimidating, but it's not a surprise considering both her parents are professors at a top university.” You are aware you sound like a proud parent when talking about the children to Wanda and Natasha, but they seem to understand. “And the two little boys are an absolute delight.”

“So no runaways at bath time?”

“Thankfully not! And do you remember the family with the child that refused to take off the batman costume? These three are practically the opposite, I'm so relieved.”

Natasha grins. “And the room is better in this place? No rattly pipes or leaky windows?”

“Honestly, it's a palace in comparison.” You shudder thinking back to that house. “Anyway, now I really need to tell you something I thought best to leave a secret but if I keep it to myself any longer I think I may explode.”

They both sit up straight at that, expectant.

“Okay, so there's another room opposite mine which was an office but now one of Steve's, Mr Rogers', friends is staying there. He, the friend, he's...” 

You stop, unsure how to explain, but it doesn't take long for Natasha to half work it out.

“Is he hot? Single? Is he nice? Would it be awkward if you dated or amazing because he lives right across-” Wanda shuts her up by stuffing the rest of her cake into her mouth before turning to you.

“Basically all of that but with room to breathe.”

This is going to be the worst part of the conversation and you decide to get it over with as quickly as possible.

“It doesn't matter what he's like, it matters who he is. He's Bucky.”

You're met with twin looks of confusion and a joint answer.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

“Oh right, of course. Bucky's a sort of nickname, but you know him as James, as in James from the club, James who I kissed-”

Half the café turns to look at your corner booth as Wanda and Natasha scream at you. You shush them and attempt to hide behind your hair, giggling when they only quiet down slightly, looking half enthralled and half horrified.

Wanda recovers first.“Is that as awkward as I imagine?”

“More than you can imagine, let me assure you.”

You spend the next half hour filling them in. They react appropriately at all the right moments, both being outraged when you repeat what he said the first afternoon and sounding just as conflicted as you when you describe how sweet he is with the children.

“You really should have told us straight away.” Natasha laments you as she reaches for her coat and bag at the end of the meal. Wanda agrees.

“I'm sorry,” you whine, “but I really didn't know what to say. Am I supposed to just text; 'hey, guess what, that guy who made out with me on Saturday night and then left without saying au revoir is now my sort of flatmate'?” You cringe as you say it, realising just how bad it sounds.

“Yes! That is exactly what you should have said. We could have helped!” Wanda replies.

You sigh. “Unless you have a time machine and can stop me from ever entering that club, there's not much you can do. And anyway, it was much funnier to see your reaction in person! Even if we may never be able to come here again.” 

You place another coin to the tip on the table in compensation for making so much noise.

“Well now we know, I want minute to minute updates on anything else that happens between you and him, no excuses.” Natasha leaves no room for protest so you agree as you hug her and Wanda goodbye, assuring them you'll keep them in the loop. 

It feels like a weight has been lifted as you stroll home. If nothing else, your friends knowing about your situation means at least next time Bucky passes your room flushed after working out, you'll have someone to vent your frustration to.

***

It's raining on Sunday. Tipping it down, actually, and you watch out your window as the water splashes off the sodden deck and shakes the hydrangeas in the border. You were supposed to go to the park with your friends today but the weather had other plans, along with the cold you've come down with. Michael had been ill this week, but insisted on still going to school so he didn't miss the end-of-term fun, and the slight tickling in your throat from yesterday seems to have morphed into a full-on cold. 

Sitting up in bed, you reach for your lemon drink and sigh when you realise you're all out. On your way back from refilling your mug you glance at the bath bomb sitting on your desk and decide that a hot bath might make you feel better, but the sight that greets you as you enter the bathroom nearly makes you cry. 

Clothes everywhere. They're scattered all over, right across the floor and even the closed toilet lid, the red Henley in the centre of the chaos making it clear who's responsible, but really, who else would it be? You can't even get to the sink without treading on something and that makes you snap. When you're ill your ability to deal with annoyances decreases significantly, and before you know it you're storming back up the hall and bursting into Bucky's room. 

You've never been in here before and you spend a few moments taking it in. What little there is to take in, that is. The walls are bare, the bed, whilst made neatly, is plain with just one blanket, and the only personal item you can see is a teddy sitting on a bookshelf in the corner. Shaking yourself mentally you turn to face Bucky. He's sat at the desk that was originally in the room, pencil hovering over the page of what you assume is a journal as he stares at you questioningly. 

You realise you must look quite strange so you get straight to the point. “Move your stuff from the bathroom.”

“Huh?”

“Your things all over the floor meaning I can't even enter that room. I mean is it so hard to just pick it up when you leave? And what where you even doing in there? There's at least three whole outfits in that mess! I get that we have to share and there's going to be some compromises but this isn't acceptable.” 

You're breathing heavily when you finish your rant and Bucky doesn't look impressed.

“I'll move it, no need to be such a bitch.”

“I'm not being a bitch! You need to know I make a special effort to keep that room tidy. I'm always sure I don't leave so much as a tube of toothpaste out of the cupboard so it's easier to keep everything separate and in order. The least you could do is not leave it looking like a suitcase exploded in there.” 

You follow him along the corridor, haranguing him the whole way. His body language is warning you from continuing but you're on a roll. 

“This is laziness, pure and simple, and I'm not going to put up with it. What exactly is it you do all day that means you don't have time to clean up after yourself? I'm aware you don't go to work anywhere so there's really no excuse.” 

You knew Bucky didn't work but you hadn't asked anyone why, trying to mind your own business, so you regret your words immediately. He rises in front of you, arms full of clothes and face stormy, and you have to force yourself not to take a step back. His expression changes slightly as he appears to deflate, his glare disappearing, instead looking you up and down with a smirk.

“Clearly, somebody needs to get laid.”

You gasp as your face heats up. “Excuse me?”

“I said, you need to get laid. Maybe you wouldn't be so uptight and irrational if you did.”

“I'm not irrational! I just find you infuriating!” You sound slightly hysterical but you can't help it, not when your whole body hurts and your fantasy that you and Bucky were starting to get along is shattering before your eyes. 

You're close to tears and his next sentence sets you off.

“Right now, feelings completely mutual.” 

Sweeping past you he disappears back into his room. You cover your mouth with your sleeve as you sob, attempting to muffle the noise as tears roll down your face. Seconds later you remove your hand, not being able to breathe, and the small room is filled with the sound of your loud, gasping cries. As you slide to the floor you manage to close and lock the door behind you. 

Your tears aren't slowing down, if anything they're getting worse as you think over everything that just went on and wonder why you always do this to yourself. You didn't mean what you said. It's only because you're ill. In your line of work you can't afford to be unwell so when you are it's incredibly stressful, and you tend to lose your temper at the tiniest things, like you just had. You bury your head in your knees as you continue to cry, absolutely miserable. 

Ten minutes later when you've stopped sobbing you rise from the ground and wash your face, wondering if it's safe to leave yet as you're no longer in the mood for a bath. Pressing your ear to the door you don't hear anything so you quietly open it and tip toe to your room, frowning at the music from Bucky's side of the passageway. You've never heard anything from his room, let alone the thudding beat currently seeping through his door frame and it makes you feel even worse. 

Wavering outside, you decide to apologise tomorrow when the dust has settled slightly, and when you hope you won't feel so awful, either mentally or physically. You try to convince yourself you're not putting it off because you're a coward but it doesn't work. 

Crawling into bed and grabbing the book off your bedside table, you sit back against the cushions and allow the rain and the words to lull you into a more peaceful state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to split this into it's two scenes and post them separately, but I though I should just get this over with. I promise after this Bucky will get a lot, lot nicer...  
> [Tumblr](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/)!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck Buck finally apologises! Well, half apologises, but it's a start.

“If you enter that room there’ll be no TV time today, Michael!” 

That’s the first thing you hear the next morning. As you become more awake, pain floods through you, as well as a sense of panic, and you struggle against the mountain of covers while you try to work out what’s going on. There’s a small face peering through the gap in your doorway, and when they see you’re awake they come barging in, talking a mile a minute.

“Y/N! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you poorly! Daddy says you need the doctor and I didn’t even need the doctor and I was very poorly so you must be even more poorlier than me.” 

He continues like this as you squint at him in confusion. Glancing at your alarm clock which is saying it’s a little after nine, you curse under your breath, attempt to sit up, and are in the process of removing the many blankets covering you when Steve rushes in after his son.

“Michael! What did I just say?”

“But, you and Mummy say you always have to say sorry when you’re sorry and I’m really very sorry, I’m sorry Y/N, I’m so s-” He doesn’t get to finish, being picked up by his father and carried out of your room. 

A minute passes before Steve returns, a minute you spend sitting on the edge of your bed willing your body to cooperate and allow you to get dressed, and when he sees you swaying gently he wastes no time in pushing you back against the pillows.

“Yeah, no, you’re not going anywhere.” His tone stops you from rising up again, but you need answers.

“But, the children? What about them?” Your voice is very scratchy and you accept the glass of water he pushes towards you.

“I’ve got some holiday in lieu, so I’m taking it today, and judging by the state of you, probably the rest of the week.”

“Oh no.” You just remembered what today is. “It’s the summer holidays! You’ll have to watch over them all day, I’ve got to get up-”

“You are going precisely nowhere 'til you’re significantly better. I’ve called the doctor and he’ll be here in an hour but until then try to get some rest.”

“Did I sleep through my alarm?” You’d be shocked if you did, that clocks like a foghorn.

“I checked on you last night when we hadn’t seen you at dinner, and when I realised you were in no way going to be able to work today I turned it off. I’m not surprised if you don’t remember, you were pretty groggy.”

“How embarrassing. I’m sorry. This is so unprofessional, I don’t know how it could have happened.”

Steve looks like he may laugh at your comment. “You can’t help getting ill, Y/N. Children don’t really have the best idea about hygiene, so it’s bound to happen.” He moves to open your curtains but when you shrink into your bed at the light he quickly closes them again. “Alright, I’ll leave you for now, do you need anything else?”

You shake your head and he smiles.

“If you do just shout.”

“I’m not sure I can shout, maybe you could get a bell for me to ring?” You whisper.

He laughs, the look of worry easing a little at your attempt at humour.

“I’ll see if I can find one.” With that he departs, closing your door softly behind him and leaving you in the dark. The extra comforters are keeping you incredibly warm and slumber comes easily.

***

The next time you wake a kind looking man in glasses is looking over you. He notices you’re awake and introduces himself as Doctor Banner.

“Alright, Y/N Y/L/N, let’s see what’s wrong, shall we.” He takes your temperature and asks a few questions about where you hurt. After about five minutes he nods and finishes scribbling in his pad.”

“The good news is you’re not dying.” Your face must show how unfunny you think that is and he clears his throat. “Yes, anyway, the bad news is you’ll have to stay in bed for the next two days. At least.” 

His diagnoses has you slumping back into the mattress in defeat. “Isn’t there any special medicine you can give me to speed that time up?”

“Nothing legal I’m afraid.” His grins. “Bed rest and these antibiotics is all I’m able to give you for now. Steve will look after you too so you’re in safe hands.”

“He shouldn’t have to look after me! I’m paid to look after _his_ children for goodness sake.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s an occupational hazard working as you do. And I’m sure he understands, as a child he was in the doctors weekly with a new ailment.”

“You knew him when he was younger?”

“Uh huh,  he was a weedy little thing, seemed to have the full collection when it came to infectious diseases. I also patched him and his friend up many a time as a trainee doctor, always in some scrap or another.”

The thought of Steve as young tearaway doesn’t shock you, he does have an air of righteousness about him, but giving his height and build it’s hard to picture him as a scrawny child.

“I’ll leave you to rest up, Y/N.” He’s moving towards the door and handing a piece of paper to Steve who’s reappeared. You lift a hand in a sort of wave as he’s shown out, before sighing and staring straight ahead, frustrated at the world. 

You had planned so many activities for this week as three small children getting bored during holidays isn’t fun for anyone, but obviously you won’t be able to do any of them now. You pull up your planner on your phone and show it to Steve when he brings you a glass of orange juice. He seems surprised at the number of events and places you’d bookmarked but agreed that it was probably the only way to keep them entertained. 

Looking over the list he focuses on one particularly.

“There’s a Roman soldier dress up day at the museum down the road, I think they’ll like that. And on the way back I’ll pick up your prescription. You’ll be all right?”

“I don’t exactly want to go anywhere, so yeah. I think I might read a little.”

“Bucky’s home if you need anything. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help.”

Bucky. Crap. You had completely forgotten about everything that went on with him yesterday, too distracted by feeling like death, and you hope you keep a neutral expression as Steve goes on.

“I’ll tell him to keep an ear open for you, okay?”

You barely nod, trying to keep the horror at the thought of interacting with the guy across the hall from showing on your face. There is no way you are asking him for anything. After your last 'talk’ you’d be astonished if he even considered aiding you, and you wouldn’t blame him, you sure wouldn’t in his position. 

Ten minutes later the chattering at the front door signals the Rogers’ are on their way out and then there’s silence. It’s still only eleven am and you’re not tired, just achy. You retrieve the book that you were reading earlier and try to get comfy, turning on the light beside you when you realise the curtains are still closed and your only option to get somebody to open them isn’t really an option at all.

***

You must have fallen asleep again as a knock on your door has you flailing back to consciousness. You’re about to tell them to enter when the door is all but kicked open, revealing Bucky, carrying a tray and looking even less pleased to be there than on that first day. You watch silently as he walks in.

“Steve told me to make you soup so here it is.” 

There is a bowl and cup on the tray he’s holding and he dumps it on your desk before starting to leave again, slowing down and glancing back at you when he reaches the threshold. He grumbles something too quietly for you to hear and stalks back into your room, picking the tray up again and placing it down on your lap, pressing a spoon into your hand when you don’t react.

“He also said to make sure you eat it so…” He stops as he properly looks at you for the first time today. “Whoa, you look like shit.”

Any other time you’d be offended but you know it must be true. And after how you treated him, you think Bucky being a little impolite to you is the least you deserve. You still haven’t moved.

“I’m not feeding you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You laugh despite yourself and he looks surprised, his scowl fading. He sighs and sits on the side of your bed, taking the spoon back from you and dipping it in to the bowl. He holds it up to your face and you frown.

“I thought you just said..?”

He doesn’t lower his hand. 

“Steve did say I have to make sure you finish it, so I can either watch your pathetic attempts at eating, or I can help you and not let it go cold.”

You open your mouth and accept the food.

“And I need to say sorry for yesterday.”

You swallow a little too quickly when he says that, choking on the hot liquid and being grateful for the water he also brought as you stare at him in shock.

“You need to say sorry? I think the one in the wrong was me.”

He shakes his head, feeding you three more spoonfuls before speaking again. “No, you’re obviously ill and I could tell you were coming down when we, er, spoke. And whether or not you were, it was unreasonable for me to be so rude to you.” 

He keeps offering you soup while he talks and you need to avoid the spoon in order to speak.“I think basically ranting at you for ten minutes straight was unreasonable.”

“Nothing you said was untrue though. And you were right, I shouldn’t have left it in that condition, I just got a bit upset-” breaking off he virtually forces the next spoonful onto you, regret clear on his face. 

You don’t want him to get annoyed at you again but you really need to know what he was about to say, if only so you have a reason to not get angry next time he does something like that. 

“What were you upset about?” you ask, hoping he doesn’t leave.

It doesn’t look like he’s going to answer, the last dregs from the bowl fed to you without him even looking at you and you’re about to apologise for ever asking when he starts to explain.

“I have a meeting at the DVA next week, it’s the first one I’ve felt able to go to and I was trying to work out what to wear but it all got a little too much.” It’s said in a rush and he only makes eye contact with you when he’s finished. 

The two of you sit in the quiet as you take everything in. The DVA? That must be the Department of Veterans Affairs. And that must mean Bucky’s had something to do with the armed forces. The revelation of that leaves you a little numb, thinking over all the times you were awful to him, all the things you’ve said to him, especially yesterday, your words sounding so much worse now you know his background. You try to find the right response but draw a blank. 

He’s watching you as you process it. All the hostility is gone from his face, the small smile he’s trying to give you doesn’t reach his eyes. You’ve never seen him look like this; younger than he is and more vulnerable than a man his size ever should. 

The temptation to give him a hug is strong.

He stands and brushes none existent dust from his jeans. “I’ve got to go to the chemist, Steve and Peggy are taking the children out for dinner when she finishes work so I’ve got to pick up your medicine before the shop closes.” The change in subject is jarring.

“Where are they going?” You’re still not sure what to say so you ask an easy question.

“Pizza Hut, I think.”

“Oh. If I wasn’t so ill I’d be jealous.” He looks amused by that and moves towards the hall.

“Bucky?” You stop him just as he’s leaving, taking a deep breath and working up the courage to say what you really need to. “I’m sorry. Truly. For everything. I was completely out of line and I’m not sure what I can do to make it better but please know I didn’t mean half of it and the parts I did I was wrong to think, now I know…” 

You let the sentence trail off, not wanting to say 'about your past’. His expression isn’t easy to read but you think that his smile is a little more genuine as he nods at you and closes the door.

***

On Thursday you finally make it out of bed and spend the afternoon in the garden, watching the children play on the swings and enjoying the nice weather, warm and sunny for once. The past few days have been a blur of sleep, disgusting medicine and way too much TV. You’re desperate for fresh air by the forth and a break in the rain is the perfect excuse to leave the house, even if by ten meters to the bench on the patio. 

Michael’s still feeling guilty and hovers around you. The comforter he got from his bed for you is covering your legs but he still seems concerned, constantly breaking off from whatever game the three of them are playing to check on you. It’s sweet but the opposite of how this relationship is supposed to be. You can see Sarah getting annoyed when Michael once again leaves his siblings to worry over you and are about to move back inside where it’s 'safe’ according to him, when someone interrupts you.

“Hey, buddy. How about I look after Y/N and you go finish rescuing the prince from the tower.” Bucky’s got two steaming mugs in his hands and gives one to you as he takes a seat beside you. Michael looks unsure.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got three blankets and this drink to keep me warm.” You take a sip to show him. “This’ll help me, and you need to help Sarah get Joe away from the dragon.”

When he finally leaves you relax back against the bench and almost forget about the presence of the person sitting next to you until he turns to you, looking awkward. You haven’t seen him since Monday, haven’t see much of anyone really, and you wonder if you’re allowed to talk about what was disclosed during that lunch.

“I need to ask you something.” He looks uncomfortable and you give him your full attention. “A favour actually.” That has you intrigued but he doesn’t continue, observing an aeroplane pass overhead instead.

“What kind of favour? It’s nothing bad, is it? I’m not too keen on being a getaway driver,” you try to joke when he’s been quiet for a minute.

His smile is more of a grimace. “I told you about the VA? I’m going on Tuesday and the meetings at a building quite far away from here and I haven’t even tried to go on the metro since I got back and taxi’s aren’t any easier, alone in a small space with a stranger in control and everything and I’d have to get six different buses which isn’t practical and-” He’s rambling and you realise he’s just told you some pretty personal details about himself. 

Bucky’s still watching the sky but he seems slightly unfocused so you sit up and try to catch his eye.

“Hey, it’s okay, what time do you need to be there?”

He blinks a couple of times as he looks at you again. “About nine in the morning.”

You have assured Steve and Peggy you will be better by the end of the week so you’ll definitely be able to help Bucky get to and back from his meeting without enduring anything traumatic, you’ll just have to work out what to do with the children during it. He takes your silence as refusal and starts apologising.

“It’s fine, I’ll work it out, thirteen miles isn’t even that far to walk.”

He looks so determined you have to bite your cheek to prevent a laugh, this is a sensitive topic you’re discussing and you don’t want to offend him.

“If you walk there and back it’ll be the same distance as a marathon.” You bet he wouldn’t struggle with that but there’s the problem of the time it’ll take. “And you’ll have to leave way before seven if you want to get there on time.”

He doesn’t seem put off by that. “If I have to, then I just will.”

“No. I’m not letting you walk half way across the city before it’s even light. I can take you there and I’ll pick you up after. How long will it be?”

He doesn’t know, so you look up on your phone where it is and, seeing a park nearby, decide that the children can run around in there until he’s done. If the weather’s bad, Bucky points out the indoor play centre down the road. He then enters his number into your contacts and sends himself a message so he has yours too. 

This all feels very domestic. Planning a day out together, even if only partly, still gives you hope for the future. Maybe you can be friends? You’ve just had the longest conversation that wasn’t mainly you screaming at him and not one cross word was said. When he excuses himself and goes back inside, your mood is vastly improved and you feel almost completely better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crisps = 'chips'/'potato chips', for American-English readers ;)

Compared to some of the children you have nannied, these are absolute angels. Minor tantrums are quickly resolved, there has only been a couple of times food has been refused at dinner and the way toys are put away after playtime is remarkable. Basically, you've struck gold with this family. 

So when they're all dressed, coats and shoes done up, waiting by the front door ready to take Bucky to his meeting, and you have to go searching for him in order to leave, it all feels the wrong way round. Calling out his name into the quiet house, you get no reply. Looking at your watch you notice that if you don't leave soon you'll be late so when you find him thirty seconds later you're relieved. 

He's sat on his bed, fully dressed, and you cringe at his shoes on the duvet, but the look on his face stops you from commenting.

“Are you, er, ready?”

His breathing is slightly laboured and he half shrugs, licking his lips and letting his head fall back against the pillows.

“I'm not sure I want to go.” Your heart breaks at his voice, small and childlike.

“Oh. Okay.” You wish you knew what to tell him.

“I got dressed up and everything.” He had. Very nicely. His hair is neatly brushed, and you didn't even realise he had glasses until just now, eyes wide behind the frames as he takes shallow breaths. “I was all up for it an hour ago but now... Fuck, I'm being pathetic.”

“You're not being pathetic. Don't ever think that.” You duck down to meet his gaze when he glances at the floor. “How about this? We go, and if when we arrive you still don't feel like going in we just go to the park and try again next week.”

He considers your compromise for a couple of seconds. “That sounds, er,” he sits up, wiping his palms against his trousers, “That sounds alright. I'll probably be fine when I get there.”

“I'm sure you will. Come on.” You hold your hand out to lead him, and almost immediately drop it when you realise what you've done, leaving the room too quickly to see if he noticed. But the teasing smile on his face when he slides into the passenger seat suggests he did.

***

Finding a parking space outside the VA is thankfully easy and you're switching off the engine with ten minutes to spare. Along the way you could sense Bucky growing quieter, his answers to the children’s questions getting shorter and his body shrinking further into the seat. Once again the urge to hug him strikes you. 

You're trying to think of something encouraging to say when a movement on the other side of the street catches your attention.

“Is that..?” You turn to Bucky and ask him to watch the kids for a second before jumping out of the car.

“Sam!” You really hope it is him as you shout across the road. He turns and you laugh in relief when he replies.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Long time no see right?” He's crossed to stand in front of you and you wrap your arms round him like you had so many times in high school. The two of you had shared quite a few classes during the last years and had become very close, even attending prom together as friends, but when he joined the air force and was hardly ever in the country it was harder to keep in touch.

“This is crazy, I didn't know you lived in the city? Last time we talked you were working down by the coast.”

“I got a new position, looking after these cherubs.” You gesture to the three children in the back seats, who are watching the interaction inquisitively. Sam smiles at them and the two oldest look unsure how to respond. Joe, however, waves back sweetly.

“What are you up to these days?”

He points to the building opposite. “I work here now. Mentoring other veterans has made dealing with my own issues a lot easier.”

You had heard about Sam's wingman being lost in combat a while ago. Riley was also in your year, and, even though you didn't really mix with him much you knew his death was a loss to the world.

“I'm so sorry, Sam.” He shrugs and thanks you, before you remember what you were there for.

“Oh! If you work at the VA, you must know about Bucky, or James, maybe. It's his first time today.” You walk to the other side of the car and open the door. Bucky is sat with his eyes closed, muttering to himself, and he clearly didn't notice you approach judging by the way he jumps violently when you call his name.

“Sorry! It's okay, just me. This is Sam.”

“Hello, James.” Sam waits for him to step out of the car before shaking his hand. “Glad you finally felt you could come.”

“Yeah, well,” he straightens his jacket awkwardly, “I still feel nervous. Is that normal?”

“Completely. Come on, I'll give you the grand tour.” Bucky seems a little less tense as he follows Sam over to the steps up to the door. Just as he's about to ascend, Bucky turns back to you but you anticipate his words.

“Give me a call when you're done, I'll be nearby.”

With a nod and a small smile he disappears from sight.

***

A shadow falls over the picnic table you're sat at, and you look up to find the guy you were just about to message standing in front of you.

“I thought I told you I'd pick you up?” Bucky gracefully folds himself into the seat next to you.

“I didn't what to trouble you, you and the children. The weathers so nice I guessed they're wouldn't appreciate being disturbed.”

He places a paper bag on the bench and starts pulling sandwiches and crisps out of it.

“Er..?” You must look as confused as you feel.

“Lunch,” he explains. “It's the least I could do after you all got up early during the holidays just for me.”

“I'm sure they don't mind.” You motion towards the play park where Sarah's yellow top makes her easy to spot. You both watch her rush down the slide, too close behind her brothers and causing a pile up at the bottom, but no one appears bothered.

“It's to thank you, too. After the things I've said, you'd have been completely within your rights to refuse to help me.”

“I hope you don't think I'd be that petty?”

“The way I've acted, it wouldn't be petty at all.” He's finished taking items out of the bag and turns fully towards you. His eyes look incredibly blue in the sunshine and you can't look away.

“I feel like I have to apologise for a lot. I was going through some shit when we first met, in the club, I mean.” 

You will yourself not to flush. 

“I still am. But that was obviously just before I moved in, and, I don't know, it was sort of a 'last night of freedom', or maybe it was a goodbye to the life I had before? Who knows. The people I lived with weren't exactly the best influence, I definitely 'partied' too much during that time. Anyway, that's not who I normally am, and I don't know why I was so rude the next day. I thought, well,” he runs a hand through his hair as he thinks. 

“I have no idea what I thought would come of that. And not letting Steve and Peggy know we had already met was only me being selfish because I told them I stayed home that night. It was wrong of me to suggest it was unprofessional of you. I don't know what the fuck I meant by that. If I could do it over again, please know I wouldn't be such a dick. Sorry.”

You gape at him when he finishes. No one's ever given you an apology quite like that and you're totally overwhelmed. Before you can think of an appropriate reply you're interrupted by the arrival of three small children who've sensed food. Helping Joe with the straw for his drink, and stopping Michael from starting on the cookies first, you wait until they are all happily distracted before facing Bucky again.

“I've been pretty awful to you too, horrible really, so if you're willing, start over?”

“Yeah? I'd like that.”

You hold out your hand and he shakes it. Under the summer sky in the most beautiful park the city has to offer, it feels like a new beginning and you're excited for the future.

***

“You've only just eaten, I'm not sure funfair rides are the best idea,” you try to reason, however the teacups and Ferris Wheel spinning in the corner of the field are too appealing. 

Bucky doesn't help. “You've not lived 'til you've made yourself sick on the carousel, though, right?”

You shake your head with a laugh, watching as the children cheer and race over to choose which horse they want to ride on. You have to call them back to attach the wrist bands you've just bought to them, and then take a seat by the candy floss machine, content to let them spin themselves silly. 

Bucky sits next to you and you accept the doughnut he offers you.

“You don't have to answer if you don't want to, naturally, but, how was your meeting?” 

You've been dying to know all day but aren't going to force this new-found friendship if it makes him uncomfortable. He chews on his own sugary treat as he considers your question.

“A lot easier than I thought it would be.” He doesn't elaborate and you don't push it.

“I'm very glad. So, same time next week?”

“Yeah, I guess. Sam's cool.”

You giggle. “Sam's the coolest, I'm sure you'll get along well.”

He nods, the slightly distorted music from the dodgem ride the only noise between you before he speaks again.

“You don't have to take me next time.”

Frowning you ask, “Why wouldn't I?”

“It's quite early, it'll be too-”

“Don't worry about that. You know what children are like, up before the sun most days so it's not going to be a problem at all.”

He looks half convinced. “Only if you're sure.”

“Absolutely. Now, who do you think will regret the swing boats first? Sarah, Michael, or Joe?”

***

After walking round the park in the fresh air for half an hour to make sure no one’s feeling ill any more, you finally get back in the car and start the journey home. It's been a much longer day than you planned, what with the gift of lunch, and the two youngest looked like they were about to fall asleep when you buckled them in. A glance in the rear view mirror confirms your suspicions. 

You go to nudge Bucky because they look so cute cuddled up together, and have to hold in a snort of laughter when you see he's also unconscious, leaning back against his head rest. His hair, which has been blown around by the wind all day, is falling softly around his slightly flushed face, and he looks more peaceful than you've ever seen him. 

If you spend a good half minute staring before starting the car, well, you're sure Sarah didn't notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Sarah absolutely noticed.
> 
> Also, I think the reason Bucky was so tired he fell asleep in the car is cause he's been up half the night worrying :( suffer in the thought of that with me!  
> [Tumblr.](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your standard Bucky having a nightmare scenario, I'm sorry Bucky :( This is set a couple of weeks after the last part, so Y/N and Bucky are now bff's and all the bad blood is gone.

It's a lot easier to live with a guy when it stops feeling like he hates your existence, and you're enjoying your job even more now the horrible tension whenever the both of you are home has gone.

Because you two now get on, you actually have someone to chat to when the children are busy, and over the last month the two of you have talked a lot. The charming man you had believed him to be during those dizzy twenty minutes _that night_ had reappeared, but he's so much more than that; funny, intelligent, a surprisingly good cook, and endlessly caring.

Basically, you've gained a new best friend.

Which is why, when you're woken up very early on the second Sunday in September by a noise from Bucky's room, your first thought is for his safety and not your own. There's another crash from the other side of the hall and you slip out of bed. Approaching the door cautiously, you try to remember the self defence course you went on years ago, because a break-in is looking very likely right now. This is, after all, a very nice house. 

The next noise has you flying across the hallway and into the other bedroom, as that sounded a lot like Bucky, or, more specifically, Bucky in pain. Bursting in might not have been the most sensible idea so when you find the room empty apart from him, you relax minutely, but only until you flip on the light. His face is screwed up and you watch as he grabs the pillows as he thrashes around, murmuring incoherently to himself. 

The way he looks breaks your heart. As the children are past the age when they would wake in the night and Steve and Peggy said they'd cope anyway, you haven't had to deal with nightmares for ages and you're trying to decide what action would be best when Bucky speaks clearer.

“Don't make me! They're innocent in this, I...” He starts mumbling again but you've heard enough.

He's obviously going through hell and you have to wake him up. The problem is how. Making your way to his bed, you hover over him uncertainly before grabbing him by the shoulder and gently shaking. He doesn't wake immediately so you try again, calling his name as he flinches away.

When you practically shout in his ear as a last resort he finally opens his eyes.

“Hey, Bucky.” You take a step back to give him space as he becomes aware of his surroundings. His hair is damp with sweat, his breathing is rapid and when he sits up against his headboard he finally notices you.

“What's going on..?” He's pulling the duvet back over him as he squints at you, confused.

“You, er, it looked like...” His expression changes as he remembers.

“Oh fuck.” He sounds angry. “I thought I was over that stage.”

“It's okay,” You try but stop when, to your horror, he starts crying. Properly crying. You don't want to leave him like this but you're not sure how to help.

“Do you want me to go?” He doesn't respond. You slowly inch your way towards the exit, to let him have some privacy, but he stops you just as you're opening the door by calling your name.

“Yeah?”

His eyes are bloodshot and his face is wet with tears. “Can you, just, um, ” he considers his words before shaking his head. “Actually no, it's fine.”

“What do you want, Bucky? It's okay to ask. Can I get you something? Water? Hot milk?” You'd bring him the moon to stop him looking so small.

“I don't want anything. I just need...” He looks like he's fighting an internal battle so you move to sit next to him.

“Just ask, alright? I want to help.”

He takes a deep breath. “Can you stay? With me, I mean.”

You're frozen as you take in his request.

“You want me to stay? Here, in your bed?”

“I don't want to be alone.” You can't say no when he sounds so vulnerable.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course, let me just get another blanket.” 

You move quickly back to your room, pulling the top cover off your pile of comforters while thinking over what you've agreed to. You're just going to share a bed with Bucky, no big deal. Just sleeping next to him, absolutely no reason to freak out. You remind yourself that this is for his benefit, purely to comfort him, and that thought allows you to re-enter his bedroom looking calm.

You're less calm when you see he's pulling a new top over his head, and you avert your eyes so you don't stare at the trail of hair leading into his boxers.

“My other t-shirt was damp,” he explains. 

You just nod. It's then you realise you're not sure how you're going to do this, physically, as his bed is against the wall so one of you will have to get in first. It's a relief when he does, sliding across to the other edge and holding the duvet up for you. Spreading the blanket you'd fetched across the top of the covers on the side you'll be on, you lie down next to him and try to relax. 

Bucky searches for your hand under the sheets and brings it to his chest.

“Thank you.”

You turn towards him and try not to jerk back when you see how close he is.

“You're welcome.”

“Not just for staying, for waking me up too.”

“It didn't look like you were having fun.”

“I wasn't.”

The whispered conversation draws to an end when he settles into his pillow and closes his eyes, and you watch, probably creepily, as his breathing evens out. He's still holding your hand and you don't try to retrieve it. It's comforting, even though it's only a small amount of contact, and you fall back asleep beside him with a small smile on your face.

***

When you wake up later that morning you're momentarily disorientated. The bed you're lying on is too firm to be your own and you're trying to work out what the hell is going on when Bucky walks in and you remember everything.

“Morning.” He looks good, bright eyes and neat hair holding no signs of the disturbed night. “I made you, or tried to at least, some toast and things.”

“And things?”

“It doesn't look as pretty as I hoped. Those pictures online lied to me.” You giggle. He waits for you to sit up before handing you a tray, all your favourite breakfast items laden on it next to three different drink choices.

“Gosh, thank you.” The amount of food in front of you is ridiculous. “I can't possibly eat all this.”

“I wanted to give you options. And to thank you, again”

“Any time.”

He winces at your reply. “Don't say that. It wont happen again, I promise.”

“I really didn't mind.”

“I woke you up.”

“It's not your fault.”

“Yes it is-”

“No. It's not.” You try not to sound like you're scolding him. “It's not your fault at all, don't think that.” He looks like he's going to argue so you change the subject slightly. “How do you feel?”

“Fine, thanks to you.”

“Yeah? Glad I could help.”

“You really did.” He steals a strawberry from one of the many bowls in your lap and as he chews on it he watches you, considering. “You know, I've never been able to sleep after a nightmare like that. Every other time I just lay awake 'til it was time to get up so thank you. Really.”

The thought of him lying alone with his thoughts has you blinking away tears and you concentrate hard on your yoghurt to prevent him from seeing. He doesn't notice, walking over to the other side of his room to grab his jacket before searching for his keys and wallet.

“Are you going out?” He never goes to the gym on a Sunday so it's a surprise that it looks like he's leaving.

“Yes. Sam invited me for lunch with some of the others from the VA.”

“Oh! That's good! Hope you have-wait, lunch? What time is it?” You have to go out today and you just realised you may be late.

He laughs at your change of tone. “Just gone ten, don't worry.”

“Oh, okay, so it's more of a brunch then?”

“No, we're meeting at one, I just,” he rubs that back of his neck awkwardly, “I don't want to get the train and it's quite far so...”

Your heart breaks for him again. “I'll take you, no need to walk for hours.”

“You don't have to.”

“I know.” Before he can object you ask him where he's going and start to plan a route. It's only a little distance from where you're meeting your friends so it makes no difference to you.

“Alright, so I think if we leave around midday it'll be fine.”

“You really don't-”

“Bucky, please, it's no bother at all.” Your words seem to shut him up, and you're glad when he peels his coat back off. 

He tells you you're welcome to stay in his room while you eat your breakfast, and after he wanders off to see if any of the children need entertaining, you spend twenty lovely minutes enjoying the food he'd prepared. It also gives you time to properly look around his room. The blank walls and lack of anything personal makes you frown. You bet there's a story behind the teddy bear but you don't know if your allowed to ask, or not yet at least.

In the mean time, maybe a trip to IKEA would help? Would he let you take him? Or even want to go at all? If you went in the middle of a school day it wouldn't be too busy but you're not going to pressure him into anything too soon. 

When you've eaten all you can you put the leftovers away in the fridge and wave at the children through the window, watching as Joe is pushed on the swing by Bucky. Then it hits you again. You shared a bed with him last night. You grip the counter as you play over that part, remembering how he'd cried in front of you and held your hand as he fell asleep.

This feels like a step towards something completely different and you wonder just how much of what happened you should tell the girls when you meet up later today.

***

You make it very clear before you started explaining that when you say 'sleep', that is exactly what you mean; just sleeping, nothing more. But when have the facts ever stopped your friends.

“You dark horse! Didn't take you long to get into his pants!” Natasha looks like she's going to explode.

“I didn't have sex with him!” You hiss back at her.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I'm freaking sure, what the hell?” You're starting to regret saying anything.

“Well, why not? The guy is hotter than the sun and right there, so what stopped you?”

“Do you really think that having sex with my sort of flatmate and best-buddy of my employer would be a good idea?”

“Yes!” Even Wanda, who's normally quite sensible and on your side, is laughing, and you can't tell if it's at you or not.

“This isn't funny!” You go to rise from your seat but are pulled back down by the girls. It's then you realise you're about to cry and you're not sure about what or why, the table cloth blurring in front of you as you search in your bag for a tissue.

“Oh, Y/N, I'm sorry.” Wanda moves to your side of the booth and hands you a napkin, looking unsure if she should touch you, and you blow your nose to avoid talking.

“We really didn't mean to upset you.” You don't miss her kicking Natasha under the table until she agrees.

You sniff. “It's okay. I mean, obviously, I do think he's-” 

Attractive? Clearly. Sometimes really sweet? Painfully so. The person you could see yourself falling for? Yes, but you better not say that. 

You settle for saying, “-nice. It's just I've never been in a situation like this before, I've never had to be around someone like him where there seems to be the potential for something more. I'm not used to guys paying attention to me, and suddenly I'm holding his hand and sleeping in his bed, so when I ask my friends for advice I'd appreciate it if they didn't make a joke of it all.” 

When you finish you stare them down and are happy to see they look guilty.

Wanda breaks the silence. “Guys pay attention to you all the time, you must see that Y/N.”

“Not ones like Bucky.”

“Of course they do, I mean he was all over you that night, almost inappropriately really-” Wanda kicks Natasha again to silence her.

“I think what she meant to say is-”

You interrupt. “The first thing he said to me was that I'm not his type.”

“-is you need to realise that you are gorgeous.” Wanda keeps going. “I don't know why he said that, the way he looked at you in the club was almost comically passionate. He had plenty of other people throwing themselves at him but he couldn't take his eyes off you.”

You wish you could remember, the first part of _that night_ is all a bit hazy.

“What does that matter though?”

“I think it shows that you are exactly his type and he was prepared to wait for you to notice him.”

“He's so far out of my league though? It must have been the drink making him-”

“Are we going to need another lesson in self-confidence Y/N? I'm not enjoying you being so negative.” 

You shake your head and Natasha continues. 

“Three things. One, you are ridiculously hot, naturally glamorous in an effortless way with a killer body, and don't you forget it. Two, you have the personality to match! You're beautiful and you are kind, funny, loyal, intelligent. Everything someone should be and more. And three. If Bucky can't see that and doesn't make some kind of move in the next month then I'll eat my newest knickers.”

That was quite a speech and you're laughing through tears as you reach for both of your friends hands. You don't have a response to most of what she said but you did find it comforting, it may seem like she's mocking you most of the time but she means well. They both do. You narrow your eyes at her when you realise something.

“You told us earlier you'd bought some strawberry lace underwear, so...”

“I'm hoping someone will eat them then eat me.”

“Alright, time to leave!” 

You usher them both out of the café before she can go into explicit detail. In the fresh air you turn to Wanda and Natasha, both of them grinning at you and you roll your eyes before muttering a 'come here' and allowing them to hug you. They really are the best friends you've ever had.

“I like our Sunday meet ups. The two of you helping me with tinder and Y/N's stories of Bucky make them very entertaining so, same time next week?” Wanda looks at you wide eyed and you can hardly say no.

“Ooh there's a thought, tinder. If you did join, then...” You'd managed to refuse before and don't want to hear any more reasons why you should, but Natasha's determined, “You could make Bucky jealous!”

“No way.”

“It would speed up-”

“No. Way. Okay? I don't want to make him jealous, I just want to be his friend.”

“Don't lie, you want to be way more that friends and you totally could if you just-”

“It's not a simple as that.” You really don't want to get into this just before you leave so your very grateful when Wanda interrupts.

“Look, our bus! Come on, otherwise we'll miss it.”

You laugh as Wanda pulls her along the sidewalk, Natasha shouting at you all the way.

“Don't think this is over Y/N!” She waves her phone at you. “We'll talk later. Operation 'Get Y/N Back In Bucky's Bed' needs planning!”

You gasp loudly when she says that, glancing around to make sure nobody you know is around.

“Shut up, Natasha!” You shout back as they step on the bus, smiling so they know you're joking, and waving when it drives away.

Alone on the pavement you pull out your own phone to see you have seven missed calls, all from Bucky, and you nearly drop it to the ground in your hurry to ring him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr.](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who the hell _was_ Bucky?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been the hardest part to write so far, there's a couple of questions finally answered here, and I hope I did it justice. About ten minutes has past since the end of chapter 7.  
> Warnings, as this ones not that fun; mentions of suicidal thoughts (once, very brief), abduction and torture, violence, so tread carefully if that's likely to affect you. Also some crying and bad language.

“You scared me, you know? Calling so many times and not even leaving a message to let me know what's going on.”

Bucky is sat on a bench on the far side of the lake. He had been short on the phone, vague about his location, only naming the park and it is lucky that you've spotted him at all; he is so far away from the other families that the sound of children playing is drowned out by the ducks quacking around his feet. The kiosk near the entrance sells bird food and he's slowly emptying a bag for them, face emotionless and posture rigid.

You're hesitant to approach. “You alright?”

He finally looks up at you and shrugs. “I don't know.”

“Can I sit? Or do you want me to go?”

Quickly he moves his jacket from beside him and motions for you to take a seat. “I'm sorry for being so rude, on the phone, I, um,” he slouches back and closes his eyes, “I'm not very good at things like that, or communicating in general, so I tend to be snappy.”

“It's okay, I understand.”

“That's the whole problem though, you don't. Nobody does.” He's sat back up to face you directly.

“You're right, I don't. But if you want you could help me, to understand?”

He stands and walks away, scattering ducks as he goes, only stopping when he reaches the edge of the water and you're scared that you've pushed too far.

He turns back to you, jaw set. “I'd like that, but only if you're sure.”

You're taken aback that he's willing. “I am if you are.”

He nods. “But not here.”

“Of course. Whenever you're ready.”

“I'm ready now.” He gestures at a group of people with a dog walking towards you. “I just mean is there somewhere more private?”

You know this park quite well so you stand up and brush down your jeans as you think. “There's a bird hide further along, up the hill. It's a bit of a trek but it's normally empty because it's so out of the way.”

You instinctively hold your hand out to him again, but this time you don't drop it when you realise. Bucky takes it after a moments pause. 

Even through the gloves you're wearing against the cool wind you can feel the warmth of his skin, and you force yourself to focus on not tripping over the tree roots to distract from the need to hold onto him forever.

 

***

 

When you eventually make it to the shelter, you're out of breath and grateful it's empty so you didn't walk all that way for nothing. Falling onto a seat, you finally let go of Bucky's hand and he moves to study the charts on the wall.

“I think I saw one of these earlier.” He points to a picture and you smile.

“Yeah? They're pretty uncommon but it's not impossible.”

“Oh. Do you know much about wildlife, then?”

“No need to sound so shocked! I'm no expert, but the family I temporarily worked for before lived near here so I came quite a few times with those children. It's amazing how quickly you can start to identify species.”

He comes and sits next to you. “That's cool. When we were children Steve made me go bird watching with him. He was always quite sickly so it was one of the few things we could do that was relatively safe.” Opening the window he peers out. “Although,” he laughs, “I do remember one time he thought he'd spotted something really rare and broke his arm falling out of a tree.” He glances at you, smirking slightly. “Don't let him convince you he was anything other than a little punk growing up.”

You giggle in surprise. He sobers up a bit, taking a shaky breath before closing the shutter and turning to you.

“But we didn't come here to talk about that.”

“We don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to.”

He shakes his head. “I know. I want to though.”

There's a long gap of silence as he works out what to say, and you feel your heart speed up in anticipation.

“I don't know where to start.”

“How about the beginning?”

“Alright smart-arse.” There's no heat behind his words, and he takes another deep breath. “The beginning? Fuck, that was along time ago.” Avoiding eye contact he begins his tale.

“When we left school I had no idea what I wanted to do, whereas Steve was pretty set on college, so he applied and then he was gone. I was at a loose end without him so when I saw a recruitment video for the army I signed up right away. I thought it'd give me a meaning to my life, a way to make a positive difference, and friendships like the one I had with Steve, and it did. At least I had that.”

“I did four tours with that regiment. They were actually quite successful. We only lost three men in six years, and made a lot of progress in eliminating the enemy and improving life for those who had been oppressed. It was almost fun at times. I still remember the taste of the sweets the children from the local villages would leave outside the barracks. All in all, it was probably the best time of my life and I was about two weeks from coming home when it all went wrong.”

He pauses briefly to collect his thoughts.

“It was supposed to just be a routine mission. There had been sightings in the local area of the militant group that used to hold the region west of us, but we weren't worried because there were hardly any of them left and they normally surrendered straight away. So, we weren't ready for there to be over twenty of them, all fully armed, not afraid to shoot and desperate to impress their leaders. It's a bit of a blur but I remember the pain and then waking up days, maybe a week later, to a living hell.”

“It was horrible Y/N.” He snickers once, bitterly. “No, horrible is not the right word. Horrible is missing your flight or losing your phone. This was months of daily torture. Constantly wishing to die so it'd be over but not having the strength to do it myself.” He breaks himself off to wipe angrily at his eyes. “After a while I stopped feeling anything. I was numb to the pain. Numb to their words. And then they started on the drugs.”

“The doctors don't know what they gave me, couldn't work out what precisely they did to my mind either, some kind of brainwashing that meant I-I-” Bucky's voice trembles and you pass him a tissue. 

Then your brain processes everything and you gasp. “I remember you on the news!” You wince at the volume of your statement.

Bucky's eyes snap up to yours. “You do?”

“Yeah, I think. About two years ago? There was a story about a soldier being rescued, one who had been abducted and used by the terrorists as a sort of-”

“Assassin.”

You are both breathing heavily as you stare at each other, him tearful and you shocked. “So that was you?”

He looks away as he hums in confirmation. Images from that report play through your mind and you feel faint as you realise just how horrific his past has been. The terrorists called him the Winter Soldier, didn't they? Nowhere in these stories was his real name, and there were no photos, but there was a court case to determine if he had committed a crime. You remember thinking the whole process was ridiculous because the guy had no free will, so surely he was just as much a victim as the ones he hurt? The jury had agreed with your view and he was let off without charge. And now here he was, sitting in front of you, looking nothing like you'd imagined.

“But you never, you know, they stopped you before you could didn't they?”

“Still hurt a lot of people.”

“Not permanently though,” you try to argue, “you came out of this much worse than anyone else.”

He lets out a slow sigh. “I suppose I did. And it's made me suspicious of anyone new. I don't like them getting too close in an environment I can't walk away from, so when I saw you the next day I sort of panicked, it felt like something else someone could use against me. And I didn't want anyone else to judge me for my past so I determined to make it so you wouldn't want anything to do with me. I thought it'd be easier if you just hated me.”

You really want to give him a hug. “I didn't quite hate you, but I did think you were a bit of a dick.”

“I was. Sorry.” He fiddles with the strap of his watch for a second. “Telling you this here probably wasn't the best idea.”

“Why?”

“If you saw the news then you know what I'm capable of. If you want to leave I get it.”

“I'm not scared of you Bucky.”

He scoffs. You reach a hand out in an attempt to comfort him, stopping short of touching him in case it makes him uncomfortable. “None of what you did was your fault. You know that right?”

He catches your hand so he can play with your fingers. “Do you really believe that?”

“Yes! Don't you?”

“It's difficult. I remember all of it, if blurry, how I hurt those people. That's hard to forgive myself for.”

“There's nothing to forgive, you're not to blame.”

He squeezes his eyes shut to stop fresh tears from falling. Five minutes pass in silence, bar the bird song, but it's a comfortable sort of quiet and as it seems like Bucky has said all he wants you let him sit there studying your nails.

You startle when he speaks again. “What you said about remembering me, that's what I was worried about earlier. Why I was upset.”

“What?”

“The possibility people could recognise me. I don't really go on the internet much but I bet someone on there has an idea of who I am. I can see the way people look at me.”

“I really don't think they do.”

“The waitress in the café kept staring at me. She paid special attention to me, like what, I need to be appeased or something?”

You laugh abruptly, covering your mouth but not being able to hide the sound. The look he gave you when you first knew him is back and when he drops your hand you feel cold, so you hurry to explain.

“I didn't mean to laugh at you, I promise! But I can guarantee she was only flirting with you.”

“Flirting?”

“You're very attractive Bucky.”

His face goes blank and you wonder if you've crossed a line. But it's the truth. You'd seen the way people watched him in the park that Tuesday weeks ago, especially when he'd volunteered to push all the children on the roundabout and everyone had noticed just how strong he is. It's not just you and you're friends who think he's pretty. You're wondering if you should say you're sorry when he relaxes, stops tearing as his tissue, and smiles tentatively at you for the first time today.

“You think so?”

“Definitely. I mean, I don't know who else you were with but its easy to spot Sam's married so people tend to leave him-”

“No, I mean, you think I'm attractive?”

You're mouth hangs open as you stare at him. This really has been a whirlwind of a conversation, but as he's been very open with you then you should return the favour.

“Of course I do.”

“That's good.” 

Good? What does that mean? Before you can question it he rises from his seat and moves as far away from you as he can in the small building. He's wide eyed when he turns back.

“Fuck. I just realised I told you everything.”

“Did you not want to?”

“No, I did. It's just....” He runs a hand through his hair, tugging on it in what looks like a painful way. “I've not told many people, none, actually, apart from Sam and Steve. Peggy too, it wouldn't be fair to make Steve keep a secret like that when I'm living in their home. Some others know a bit of what happened, but not all of it.” He comes back to sit next to you. “I know it's a lot to dump on someone, but I needed you to know.” The hand is back in his hair as he watches you.

“Why?”

“Because I don't like keeping secrets from my friends.” You melt at his confession. “And I was thinking-”

Whatever he was will have to wait as a group of walkers enter the hide. They don't pay attention to you, moving to sit on the bench at the other end, and when you turn back to Bucky he's gone. Re-buttoning your coat and collecting your gloves from the shelf, you hurry out after him and spot his figure waiting a little down the hill.

“Hey,” you pant when you catch up.

Shoving his hands into his pockets he scowls, kicking at the ground “I'm sorry. I had to get-”

“It's fine, no need to explain.” Staring down the track again, you beckon at him to follow and start the walk back in silence. 

He trails behind you for a few minutes and you give him his space. It also gives you time to go over everything that was said, and you try to commit to memory every detail he told you as if he thought it was important then it must be. Thinking back over it proves to be a little too much.

“Please don't cry.” You only realise Bucky has caught up when he stops beside you. 

All your tissues have been used so you wipe your eyes on your gloves and make a note to put them in the wash when you get home.

Sniffing, you mumble, “I'm sorry, it's just, life's been unfair to you, hasn't it? Why do these things happen?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I'm getting by, though.”

“Are you?” You did not mean to say that. 

He looks as shocked at your words as you feel at saying them but then he smiles slightly. “Well, slowly. And I'm getting better with your help.”

This feels like the hundredth time you've been thrown by something he said today and it's beginning to make you dizzy.

“How do I help?”

“Well, last night, that would have been horrendous if you weren't there. And like just now. Sam says it's important to talk.”

That makes sense. “Whenever you want to talk, I'm here, okay? Any time.”

The smile you're given in response is lovely. “Thank you. Truly.”

You could have stared at him for hours, but then he's grabbing your hand again to pull you down towards the bottom of the path and you laugh with him as you run, finding it hard to keep up. When you reach level ground he slows and allows you to catch your breath. 

Strolling along the edge of the lake, the relative peace of the children playing in the park is broken by a tinny rendition of Greensleeves as a colourful Disney character-covered van pulls up in the car park, and Bucky turns to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“How about one last ice cream of the season?”

You squint at the sky, the sun filtering through the first changing leaves now the clouds have cleared. “It is beginning to feel like Autumn, isn't it?”

“Yep,” he grins down at you. “Autumn, and the start of something beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Basically, this is Bucky as the Winter Soldier if he'd been rescued very early. So no one died, which, whilst I don't think it makes any difference to how guilty Bucky is (the Winter Soldier was a puppet) I do think it makes a difference to how guilty he feels :( also I don't know which way a trial would go if he had killed anyone, so I think in this AU it's more realistic he wouldn't be convicted. Sorry for the essay! But just in case it wasn't clear...  
>  Also, on a much lighter note, I think the last very scene is my favourite I written so far. Not necessary the best, I just really like the idea of parks and sunshine and ice cream with Bucky.  
> And finally, the kiosk Bucky got the duck food from would have had an honesty box or something, I don't think he would have been up to talking to someone :( so an unmanned hut thing.  
> Alright, I'm done now... Thank you for reading! [Tumblr.](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/)  
> I lied, one last thing, look at this moodboard/header thing I made! I used instagram and ms paint, because I am a graphic design expert... It took way longer than it looks like it did, but I think it's cute <3  
>   
> 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please imagine that Bucky is [wearing this coat](https://my-recklesshope.tumblr.com/post/164276572257/definitely-cuddly) in the first half. It's really cute and snuggly and works so well, it even looks like it has the same sort of zip! Everyone should see the picture anyway cos it's lovely... <3 Also, the car you have is a sort of 'company car', so it's not really yours, that why Bucky can drive it... (A small point but just so you know he doesn't go around adding himself to other peoples insurance policies!)  
> And just a warning in the second half for that horrible helpless feeling when a child is missing. It's fine, and when the scene opens it's all over, but just in case.

Chocolate milk and cookies aren't exactly the recipe for a crazy night out, and that's exactly why you're here in an ice cream parlour, and not a bar on Thursday night. It's not even nearly the end of your week, and it hasn't exactly been any more busy or stressful than usual, but you'd been wanting to try this place for ages so when Sam suggested it, you jumped.

You had considered asking if you could invite Bucky, but then the mental image of him attempting to drink one of those ridiculous milkshakes with about five whole chocolate bars stuck in the top had popped in you mind and you decided against it. He had a way of making anything he did attractive, and sometimes that was combined with an adorableness that made you completely melt, so it was probably safer to keep him away from having to lick his fingers in front of you.

***

“Was the waitress flirting with Bucky on Sunday?” You're not keen to ask, not wanting to spend all your time with Sam talking about another man, but for Bucky's sake you need to know that your own reassurance hadn't been wrong.

“Is someone jealous?” Sam's smirking at you and you pause, straw halfway to your mouth, because until just now you hadn't even thought about it like that. All you were worried about was keeping Bucky safe from people who didn't understand.

“He gets caught up in his thought sometimes. I just wanted to make sure his worries were unfounded.”

Sam hums. “He did leave pretty quickly, said something about needing to talk to you. I trusted you to keep him safe. You'll really good for him, I think you'd make- oh, speak of the devil.”

A body drops down next to you and you jump, turning to meet the blue eyes you've come to adore.

“Bucky? What, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, sweetheart.” He pulls his hat off and fluffs his hair a little, then reaches over you for your bag and you squeak when he starts digging around in it.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Fishing the car keys out, he pockets them, frowning at you in surprise. “You know, I don't think I've ever heard you swear.”

“You learn not to when you work with children 24/7,” you reply distractedly, “Sorry I didn't mean to be so rude, and of course it's nice to see you, I'm just confused?”

“Sam texted, said you needed a lift.”

You turn back to Sam, raising your eyebrows in question, slightly offended. “You've been falling asleep in your ice cream for the last three hours, Y/N.”

Bucky sniggers and you elbow him in the ribs, but he just returns the gesture as Sam continues, “I'm not sure you should be driving when you're so tired.”

“I could have just opened the windows and kept the music loud.” As soon as you say it you know how silly it sounds. “Okay, you're right. I wouldn't have done that but still, I could have got a taxi.”

“And then have to get another one tomorrow to get your car back? And risk getting a ticket? Honestly, it's like you don't want me here.”

He pouts at you, the aforementioned adorableness in full force and your heart skips a beat, finally taking in his flushed complexion from the fresh air.

“Wait, did you walk here?” He nods and you breathe in sharply, thinking about the long drive you took earlier. “Bucky! That's so far!”

“It's a nice evening?”

You twirl a stand of his damp hair around your finger, and motion to the water droplets on his coat. “It's raining.”

Sam is watching the two of you interact with a small smile, that turns shark-like when you look to him to back you up. 

Even before he's starts speaking you know you won't like it.

“Only very special people are worth walking ten miles in the rain for, huh?” 

Next to you, Bucky tenses and you feel your entire body flush as you avoid eye contact with each other.

“Sam,” you warn quietly, mouth suddenly dry.

Sam looks incredibly pleased with himself “I'm going to get going. See you on Saturday, Bucky?”

He doesn't reply, picking at a loose seam in his jeans, and Sam shoots you a look that makes you roll your eyes. Once he's left you sit in silence for a bit, trapped in your seat by both Bucky blocking your way and your body feeling like it's made of lead.

Needing to do something to get rid of the tension you push your plate towards him. “Do you want some cookie?” Your voice sounds like you're being choked, and you have to swallow to stop the horrible tickling. “It's quite good.”

He nods slowly, picking at the edge and popping it in his mouth. There's silence for a little while longer as he chews, before he turns to you like a kid at Christmas.

“This is really good!” It's mumbled around his mouthful, and you chuckle at the smudge of chocolate on him as he takes a bigger bite.

“Right?” You can't resist the urge to clean the side of his mouth with a napkin, relieved when he lets you and leans into your touch. You smile at him and it's like Sam never said anything.

“We should probably go too. It's nearly midnight.”

He waits as you shovel the remaining cookies into a bag and, even though you're exhausted, you really don't want to leave. During the day when you're working you've tried to limit how much time you spend with him, in an attempt to keep a line between your professional and personal life, so you treasure times like this. However, you do actually have to get up in a little over seven hours so maybe getting some sleep before then is a good idea.

Following him to the exit, he stops suddenly in the foyer, causing you to take a step back and you would have crashed into the cloakroom rails behind your had he not caught your arm.

“Why aren't we leaving?” You ask, to hide your embarrassment.

“It's still raining, you should have this.” 

Without hesitating he slips his coat off and drapes it around your shoulders, trapping your arms until you wriggle them through the sleeves, almost shuddering at the warmth against your bare skin.

“Are you sure? Now you'll get cold! I wouldn't want you to get ill.”

“I haven't had any sort of sickness since-since I came back. A little bit of rain isn't going to hurt me.”

You can't work out if that's a good thing or not, so to distract yourself you attempt to close the coat's zip, but end up holding your hands in surrender when it pulls funny. “Did I break it?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “It has a double zip, here, let me help.”

“Oh.” He pulls you closer by the collar and you have to remind yourself to breathe as he undoes and then refastens the zip correctly, smiling softly at you when it's done, before pulling the hood up over your hair.

“There. Beautiful.” He squints out into the dark street and you're glad he's looking away because it feels like your face is on fire. “Where did you park?”

“On the corner.” You join him at the window, both just watching rain the for a moment.

“We're going to have to run, okay?” He holds out his hand, and you slip yours into it, nodding.

On the count of three he pushes the door open and squealing, you rush along the pavement, socks immediately soaking as you splash through puddles together. He runs straight past the car in the gloom, and you have to pull him back sharply as you search for the keys in his coat. When you unlock it he opens the passenger door for you and makes sure you get inside safely, closing it firmly before he moves to get out of the rain himself.

As you watch him jog around to the other side, you're hit full pelt by something you've never felt before, which makes your heart feel tight and you can't quite catch your breath as Bucky falls into the drivers side. He glances across to you, eye's full of laughter, and as the rain pelts the roof and drowns out any other noises you just stare, even as Bucky turns to the dashboard and starts randomly hitting buttons.

When he turns the radio on for the third time you finally snap out of your daze.

“Stop. Stop!” You grab his hand as you giggle at his frustration. “What exactly are you trying to do?”

“Find the heating.”

“It is this one, to change the temperature,” you point at the dial, “but you have to turn it on first.” The hot air blowing in your face when you press the correct icon is very comforting. “Did you get cold? Do you want your coat back?”

He stops you from taking it off with a quick shake of his head. “It's for you, actually. Can't let you get ill again.”

“Did I ever thank you for helping me that day?”

Even in the orange glow from the street light you can see how he's blushing. “It was the least I could do after everything I'd said.”

The mood drops considerably as you remember that it hasn't always been this easy to be around each other.

“Well, still. Thank you. I was surprised you didn't just completely ignore me, I had been so awful the day before.”

“I hope you didn't think I'd be that petty?”

You scrunch your face up as he repeats your own line back at you, sticking your tongue out at him when he flicks your forehead gently.

He fastens his seatbelt as you do the same, the jingling of the keys as he finds the ignition reminding you to ask, “Are you even insured to drive this car?”

“Wouldn't be here if I wasn't.”

“And can you drive?”

He gasps in mock offence. “You wound me. I'll have you know I passed first time, perfect score.” He slides the seat back and adjusts the mirrors. “Just got to get comfortable.”

You spend the next minute showing him how to dip the head lights and turn the wipers to their different speeds, and when you're satisfied he knows everything he needs to get you back in one piece, you settle back into your seat.

“Y/N?” You're still wearing the hood and it flops over your face, so you have to push it back to see when he turns to ask you one final question. “Which one's the brake?”

“Bucky!”

“I'm joking, I'm joking!” He grins over at you as he starts the engine. “Come on, let's get you home.”

***

You can't really remember getting back last night, just fuzzy images of being pulled out of the car and half carried up the front steps, before he helped you put toothpaste on your brush and made sure you washed your face. The thought of him babying you is a quite embarrassing but compared to some of the things that have happened between the two of you maybe it's not that bad, and you spend all morning thinking about how you’re not going to let it affect you. 

So, when he drops the paper bag of leftover cookies in your lap at lunch and tells you to give them to the children before he eats them all you're incredibly glad you can laugh like nothings changed.

That evening comes around quickly, and as both Peggy and Steve have managed to leave work early, you take advantage of the couple of hours of freedom to go for a run. Well, more of a walk. But over time you've found that if you're wearing jogging bottoms and carrying a water bottle, no one thinks you're weird for wandering through the park on your own. The sun is just starting to set over the tops of the houses when you decide to call it a day, but as you turn to go home the sound of someone calling your name causes you to spin around.

There's a rustling in the bushes above you, making you tense until a small body collides with your side and wraps themselves tightly around you, pinning your arm in place. Horrified, you recognise the favourite yellow t-shirt of Sarah. Her hair is full of leaves, the ribbon you'd twisted around her ponytail this morning is torn at the end, and you feel yourself break out in a cold sweat as you look around for the others.

“Sarah, I need you to look a me.” She's nearly choking on her tears, gasping for air as she clings to your top. “Where's Joe and Michael?” It doesn't seem like she's able to talk but you really need to know. “Are they with you?”

Pulling away, she shakes her head and manages to give you a one word answer. “Home.”

“Okay. Okay.” You can breathe a little easier but you still incredibly concerned. “What are you doing here alone?”

“I wasn't,” she stutters out, “Was with Uncle Bucky.”

Now you're worried about two people. “Where'd he go?”

“I went, my balloon, it blew away.” She's trailing a string with a very sorry looking piece of ripped plastic attached to the end, and you smooth down her hair as you try to comfort her. “And then I got lost!”

“I'll call him, then we can all go home, okay?”

She doesn't let go so you have to awkwardly fish your phone out your pocket with the wrong hand, quickly flipping it around and pressing his icon.

He answers after two rings. “Y/N! I lost Sarah! She was here then a second later she wasn't and I can't find her and it's going to be dark in an hour-”

“Bucky!” You interrupt, not liking the edge in his voice, needing to calm him down. “It's okay, I've got her. She's with me.”

There's a thud and some muffled words, followed by a shuffling noise on the other end before he speaks again. “Sorry, dropped my phone, did you, please say you just said you've got her?”

“Yes. She's okay. Where are you?”

He says something about the aviary and you ask Sarah if she knows where that is. Apparently that was why the were out in the park tonight, to look at the little birds in it and you heart shatters when she tell you this.

“Find a bench and sit on it, okay? We'll be there in five minutes.”

It actually only takes you two minutes to get back to Bucky, who sees you before you can spot him. He's up and running immediately, falling to his knees in front of Sarah, catching her easily when she collapses against him in tears again. She is still holding your top so you end up pressed against them, your hand going to his shoulder to stop yourself from falling over as you lose your footing for a second, and he wraps an arm around your legs to keep you there. 

As you find your centre of gravity, Bucky's hair brushes your thigh but you ignore how intimate it is, running your other hand through to try to soothe him, being able to feel how he's shaking and see he's been crying.

When Sarah's sobs have reduced to occasional hiccups you untangle yourself from them and let Bucky stand, picking her up as he does. Sarah may only be nine, but she's tall for her age and you definitely wouldn't be able to carry her, but Bucky doesn't seem like he's struggling at all, or look like he wants to put her down ever again.

The balloon seller is still here and, finding a crumpled note in your pocket, you decide that maybe a new one would cheer her up a little. Looking over at them when you've finished paying, you link your arm with his spare one and pull him gently away to address the guilt you can see he's feeling.

“It wasn't your fault.”

“It was-”

Sarah's quiet voice comes from his shoulder. “Please don't blame yourself, Uncle Bucky.” Once again she sounds so much older than she is. “I shouldn't have left like that.”

“It wasn't your fault either Sarah,” you reassure her. “Wasn't anyone's fault.”

You tie the string in a slip knot and slide it on to her wrist, pleased at the watery smile and whispered 'thank you' you receive.

Bucky holds her a little closer and you stroke your thumb against his cheek where his tears haven't quite dried. “Come on, let's get you both home.”

***

After a whole lot of fussing from her parents, Sarah seems content, and with the promise of a bedtime story from her uncle you leave them be. When you finish using the bathroom twenty minutes later Peggy and Steve are standing with Bucky so you pause in the doorway, not wanting to disturb. When they both hug him you have to bite your lip to cover your grin at such a sweet scene, and you nod softly at them when they spot you and wish you a goodnight, leaving you two alone.

You take their place in front of him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” Bucky's lips brush your cheek before he half smiles at you and leaves for his room. 

As you watch the door close you think about how if this was a romantic movie, he would turn around and come back to kiss you properly. Obviously it's not and you're okay with that, because right now is probably not the best time, but that one simple action has hope building in you at a rate you can't begin to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a creepy guy in a bar... It's not that bad though, and he gets what he deserves.

Children seem to have a way to bounce back from distressing situations quite quickly, and by the next day it's like it never happened. Sarah, absolutely delighted with the bow Bucky made for her by salvaging the end of her ribbon and glueing it to a hair slide, is playing quite happily with her brothers, but you still feel the need to spoil her. After checking on the dish in the oven you go to the living room to see if she wants to help, but stop in the door at the sight before you.

Joe and Michael have obviously got bored of playing the game themselves, but they seem quite happy to just observe as Bucky wins at Mario Kart. He's sat on the floor in front of the sofa, one of the children's plastic crowns half falling off his head, and you smile as his nephews cheer when he slides easily into first place.

The next race loads and you make your presence known. “Ooh, rainbow road. This one's hard isn't it?”

“Only for amateur's like you,” he winks and you giggle, taking a seat next to him and absent mindedly attaching the strap of his controller to his wrist.

“Alright Mr Professional Racing Driver, let's see what you've got.”

Sarah wanders back over from the Lego castle she's been building for weeks, and together you all settle in to watch. Halfway through the third lap you feel something being placed on your hair, which you quickly identify as another one of the crowns by the spikes digging into your scalp.

Joe pats it down, explaining, “We were playing make believe, see, Uncle Bucky's got one too.”

“And it's very pretty on him.” Bucky gently kicks your foot with his, grinning at the screen as he weaves around the track.

Sarah claps suddenly. “We couldn't decide who should be who, but I've just worked it out.” She slips into the seat behind you, and readjusts it on your head. “It's perfect. Next time, you can be the most powerful in the land, and Uncle Bucky is the Prince in love with you.”

Everyone watches as Bucky's cart runs straight of the road just before the finishing line, causing all three children to scream in horror and delight as his perfect streak is destroyed. When you risk glancing over at him he's already looking back, blushing whilst breathing a little deeper than normal, and the world narrows to the two of you as he searches your eyes. Just as it feels as though you may never be able to move again Joe flops down in Bucky's lap and breaks your staring.

He pulls himself up and whispers something in his ear, causing Bucky to splutter and stand quickly, picking him up and spinning him so he's hanging upside down by his ankles.

“This one needs to wash his hands for dinner.”

“I do not!” Joe's giggling wildly as he's carried out of the room, and Michael follows, unsure if he's missing out on fun or not.

Your left with Sarah as you try to compose yourself, and she notices how you've changed outfits since earlier.

“Are you going somewhere tonight?”

“Yes. But I can stay if you want.”

“No! No, you should go. Are you going with Uncle Bucky?” She's concentrating on clicking her Lego’s together but you can see the small smile she's trying to hide.

“No...”

“Oh. That's a shame.” She searches in the box for a suitable piece. “Uncle Bucky's very...” Her face scrunches as she thinks. “He's got nice hair, hasn't he?”

“Nice hair.” You laugh, starting to see where she's going with this.

“Yep. And you do too, so that's good. Mummy and Daddy have nice hair as well. I think it's important.”

The look she levels you with holds too much wisdom for an only-just-nine year old, and you know she knows exactly what she's talking about. Apparently you haven't been as subtle as you've thought. “You're very observant, aren't you?”

“Maybe I am.” She passes you the flower she's been making, and you're impressed at it's intricacy. “Or maybe, it's just very obvious.”

A timer goes off in the kitchen, reminding you why you came out here, and you're quite thankful for the disturbance as Sarah jumps up and rushes out the room. “Are you making macaroni cheese?”

“Yes,” you reply, pleased when she squeezes you in a hug as thanks. “And garlic bread, so go wash your hands and call your brothers.”

“And Uncle Bucky?”

“Er, yeah, if he wants?”

“If you're there I'm sure he will.” Laughing, you send her on her way, shaking you head at her persistence, but you're delighted she approves. Or at least you hope this is her approving. You're not at all surprised when she reappears two minutes later, her brothers and a very flustered Bucky in tow.

 

***

 

Later that night, you order a cocktail off the specials menu and, distracted by what Sarah said earlier, manage to get one that makes you pull some pretty hideous faces. But when you spend that much money on a drink you're going to finish it, especially as you're friends haven't arrived yet and you need to look busy to avoid unwanted attention. It doesn't work though, and you tense as a tall blonde man slides on to the stool next to you.

“Name's Ryan.”

You don't look away from your glass. “That's nice.”

He laughs and leans on the bar. “Don't I get to know yours?”

You cringe again, but this time it's not at the alcohol. Why are guys like this? Despite your silence he's not put off.

“Let me buy you a drink, then you can tell me your name.”

“I've got one thanks.” Please take the hint, you scream in your mind.

“Let me get you another.”

“I'm really fine.”

He's not giving up. “Okay, no drink. Are you waiting for your boyfriend? Is that it? Someone like you should not be kept waiting.”

You look at him incredulously. “Do lines like that actually work for you?”

“We can only see, can't we?” He seems encouraged by your eye contact and moves closer. “When someone as hot as you is the prize, then I've got to do all I can to win.”

“What makes you think I'm available to be won?”

“You wouldn't be wearing that if you had a boyfriend.”

“And why is that?” Actually you don't want to know.

“Bit slutty, isn't it?”

You need to leave.

“Right, well, this has been lovely but all of a sudden I need the bathroom, have a nice night.” You move to stand but his hand stops you, gripping your wrist tightly.

“I watched you come back from the bathroom five minutes ago.” He forces you back into your seat and moves his hand up, along your arm to your shoulder and then back down to your leg. You're frozen. This end of the bar is empty and you seem to have lost your ability to speak, let alone draw attention to yourself or call for help.

He's leering at you as he squeezes your thigh.

“Nothing wrong with looking easy. I can give you what you so clearly need.” His hand moves further up. “Now, why don't you be a good little whore, and let me take you home?”

Your heart is racing but the threat obvious in his words unfreezes you. Sliding your own fingers under his, you smile sweetly at him.

“Why don't you go fuck yourself.” With that, you pull his middle finger up and away from your body, before twisting his hand and slamming it back into his lap, punching him in the groin in the process. As he curls in on his self in pain you grab your phone and blindly make for the exit. When you burst through the front door into the street, you run into a wall of muscle and nearly cry when you see it's Bucky.

“Is that you Y/N? What's wrong?” Sam, who you hadn't noticed standing beside him, rushes forward to prevent you from falling when you trip over your own feet and you whisper a hello as you tumble into his chest. “Fuck, how much have you had?”

You push away from him angrily. “Hardly anything! There was this man, I had to...” You frown at the pavement, not knowing how to finish, finally having a clear enough mind to process it all. It wasn't that bad, was it? Maybe you over reacted? No. He had barely got two sentences out of you before his hand was on you, despite the clear 'not interested' signals you sent him.

When you look back up the two men in front of you are furious.

“Where is he now Y/N?” Bucky looks ready to snap someone's neck and you hesitate. As you're trying to determine if the creep deserves to receive a kicking he'll never forget, the very guy stumbles from the bar and stops dead in front of the three of you. He's holding his hand close to his body and you're pleased his finger is swollen, the move you'd used on him wasn't practised but as an improvisation it looks like it had been quite effective. He looks at you and you swallow but don't turn away.

“There he is.”

Bucky wastes no time in pinning him against the side of the building by his collar.

“Did you hurt Y/N?” It's said as a growl but 'Ryan' doesn't look fazed.

“Oh, it's _Y/N_ , is it? We didn't get that far.” He sizes up the two guys staring him down but he doesn't look like he's going to walk away quietly and you whimper, drawing attention back to you. He smirks hatefully. “Right, so which one of these two is your boyfriend? Or are they both?”

The grip on his jacket is tight but he still manages to shift to face you fully and spit his fatal words.

“I was right, you are a fucking slut.”

The back of his head cracks sickeningly against the wall behind him as Bucky's fist smashes straight into his nose. Sam leaps forward to pull him away, and somehow the two of you manage to force him along the alley behind the bar and into the car park at the back. You didn't look back as you all ran, but when you gently take Bucky's hand into your own to examine his knuckles, the blossoming bruise suggests that 'Ryan' should be quite hurt. You're glad.

Everyone is breathing heavily as Sam turns to you. “Did he touch you?”

A glance to your wrist shows there's no mark. “Not really. Just my leg.”

“I'm going to fucking kill him.”

Both you and Sam grab at Bucky's coat to stop him running back.

“Believe me, I'd be right behind you but there's the small matter of cameras and consequences and, fuck, cameras. Do you think we should go back and explain?” Sam asks.

“They don't have any.” Bucky looks up at you and you realise you're still holding his hand, but his grip tightens when you go to move so you stay, and inform them; “They have some cameras inside, but there aren't any on that part of the street.”

“How do you know that?”

“This isn't the first time something like this has happened. It's a bit of a rough place. I don't actually know why I agreed to meet there.” One thing's for sure, you're not going back. And just as you remember that you were meeting your friends tonight, a taxi pulls up behind you and they both step out.

“Y/N?” Natasha sounds bemused. “And, Bucky right? And, Sam, wow, haven't seen you in ages! How are you?” She continues rambling as Wanda takes in the way you're all standing, Bucky's hand in yours and the bruises, and concludes that something isn't right. She nudges Natasha to quieten her.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I-I think so.” You let out a shaky breath and try to summarise the last twenty minutes to them.

Their cab is still idling, waiting to be paid, and it makes you realise that you are no longer in the mood to be anywhere but your own bed, so you ask Natasha and Wanda if they mind you leaving. They assure you they don't, insist in fact that you go, and Bucky volunteers to escort you. Natasha watches through the window as he helps you with your seatbelt but she keeps her mouth shut for once.

Despite it not being that late when you get home you're careful to be quiet as you move along the corridor, Bucky right behind you, and when you reach your door you turn to him. He's closer than you thought but neither of you move back.

“Are you going to be okay?” You attempt to smile at him but it's clearly not convincing. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Yes please.” You're too tired to think of all the reasons this may be a bad idea, letting him into your room as you go to the bathroom to clean up. When you come back he's sitting on your bed, your pyjama top in his hand, and he looks slightly guilty when you catch him.

“Is this what you're wearing in bed?”

“What's wrong with it?” You've already been criticised about your choice of clothing once this evening and you're not about to sit through another insult.

“It says 'the most wonderful time of the year.' That's a Christmas thing. It's only September.” You laugh in relief that he's not being that rude, swiping it back from him and swatting him with it playfully as he moves to use the bathroom himself.

“What am I supposed to do with it? Wear it for a week in December and then put it in the loft with the tinsel? Pyjama's are for life, not just for Christmas, Bucky!” He rolls his eyes, smiling as he leaves and you feel a lot lighter. Normally you just sleep in the middle of your bed but you can't tonight so once you've got into your nightwear you choose the side furthest from the door and slip under the duvet, waiting. You would have thought that you'd be freaking out at the thought of sleeping in the same bed as Bucky again, but today it almost feels natural.

When he walks back in he almost lands on top of you when he trips over his shoes, having just turned off your light but not looking out for hazards before hand. You have to pull the covers up over your face to hide your giggles as he swears under his breath and kicks them away before lying down beside you.

Your laughter dies when he faces you.

“Your bed is a lot softer than mine.”

“I know.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“This one, definitely.”

“Noted.” You don't ask what he means, instead reaching for his arm to find his hand and lace your fingers with his. He watches you with a soft smile and moves his other hand to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, smiling as you fight of a yawn.

“Go to sleep, Y/N.”

You sink further into the mattress to resist the urge to cuddle up to him. “Will you be here in the morning?”

“If you want.”

“I do.”

“Well then, I will.” He watches you close your eyes and relax under his touch, now tracing circles above your collar bone. “I'll always be here, if you want.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/).


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Easy like Sunday morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little later than I said it would be, sorry! I knew exactly how I wanted it to go, but the words just wouldn’t fit together. This was actually the hardest part to write so far despite the light-heartedness of it, but I think I’m happy with it now. Thank you for reading! :)

Sunlight is streaming through the gap in the curtains, pulling you from the best sleep you've had in a while, so you burrow your face back into your pillow to escape the world for a few more minutes.

Only that's not your pillow. You freeze, puzzled, and then attempt to untangle your limbs from Bucky's as you become more awake and realise you're half lying on him, but his arm around you stops your wriggling.

“Good morning Y/N.”

“Morning,” you squeak, clearing your throat as he giggles and pulls you closer. He's very warm as you relax against him again, pleased he didn't leave and happy to bask in his presence for as long as he feels comfortable and you're almost dozing off again when his voice breaks through the haze. You blink up at him, repositioning yourself so your head is on your actual pillow and he mirrors your actions, sliding down so you're facing each other.

You ask him to repeat himself.

“I got a job.”

“Oh! Where?”

“The local high school. They need a science technician and that's going to be me.”

“That's amazing, Bucky!” You think you may burst with how proud you are. “I thought I noticed you taking an interest in the science programmes the children watched. When did you find out?”

“Yesterday. I would have told you when I got the email but you'd already gone.”

“You need to go out and celebrate!”

“That's what I was supposed to do last night.”

Your face falls when he says that. “You should have said, you could have stayed-”

“No.” He reaches out to stroke your cheek. “I needed to know you were okay. And anyway, wouldn't have been a celebration without you.”

The hand doesn't leave and you instinctively lean into it. “Okay then, let's start now. I'm going to make breakfast, what do you want?”

You move away to get up, but Bucky follows, sliding his body back against yours and you lick your lips as his hand drops to your waist.

“I don't want anything apart from this.”

Breathing is a problem with the way he's looking at you, and you think he's leaning in, but someone knocking at the door startles you so much you flail off the edge of the bed and onto the carpet. The knock comes again and you rise ungracefully, heart racing.

Bucky is still lying down, laughing quietly as he watches and you pull the duvet up over his head in an attempt to hide him, before rushing to open the door.

Steve is standing there.

“Hey!”

“Good morning.” He takes in your flustered state. “I'm sorry, did I wake you?”

“Er, something like that.” You're not sure if you're glad he interrupted or not, despite how much you want to kiss Bucky you don't think it should happen like this. “Did you need something?”

“I was just wondering if you knew where Joe's teddy is? The yellow one?”

You sag in relief. For a horrible second you thought he was asking after the location of his best friend, who you can hear behind you, still sniggering at your actions.

You close the door a little.

“I found him in the car yesterday. He's sat on the smaller bookshelf in the living room.”

Steve clasps your hand in thanks. “You're a life saver, he gets so upset about these things.”

You shrug. “It's nothing.”

“It's everything to him. Sorry for disturbing you again, I'll see you later?”

You nod and wait for him to walk away before turning back into the room where you're met with a sight straight from a wet dream. Bucky is sat up in your bed, his prettily rosy cheeks and messy hair giving him the appearance of a guy who just got laid, and you swallow when he smirks at you.

“He?”

“What?”

“You called the teddy 'he'? That's cute.”

“When you work with children it becomes pretty natural after a while.”

“Clearly. Do you know all the teddies names too?”

You watch as he slides off your bed. “Most of them. What's yours called?”

He pauses. “My what?”

“Your bear.” Maybe that was a question too far, judging by the way he blinks slowly, body tense. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't-”

“Charlie. _His_ name is Charlie, I've had him since I was a baby.”

The carefree attitude he'd worn so well minutes earlier is gone as he stands in front of you. “I've not got much any more, so he's a reminder of what I do. Like Steve and Peggy and the children, and now Sam.” He gulps, reaching out for you. “And you. What would I do without you?”

You bring your joined hands up to your mouth and press a kiss to the already fading bruise on his knuckles. “You don't need to think about that. I'm not going anywhere. None of us are.”

He smiles a little at you, but before he can reply the corridor door is flung open and Sarah twirls through, a wicked look in her eye as she spots the two of you together.

“Don't mind me, I just need to wash my hands.”

She rattles the bathroom handle, unused to the way it opens, so you let go of Bucky to help her.

“You know, there are five other sinks in this house, Sarah.”

She watches you in the mirror as she rinses the soap off. “Maybe I like this one.”

She skips back out and Bucky shakes his head fondly as she blows you both a kiss, looking just as innocent as ever.

When she's gone you walk back to Bucky, not able to resist smoothing down a piece of his hair. “I really am going to make breakfast now so you should freshen up.”

He squints at you playfully. “You think I need to freshen up?”

“Absolutely. You look disgusting.”

He laughs at the deadpan way you answer him, sliding around you to leave your doorway. You watch his backside as he walks away, and nearly fall over when he turns around and catches you staring.

Just before he closes his own door, he grins back at you. “We really need to work on your poker face, Y/N.”

 

***

 

The kitchen is full of life when you pass by ten minutes later. Bucky is stood over the hob helping Sarah flip pancakes whilst her brothers watch, and you're about to leave the family in peace when Steve walks up behind you, ushering you through the door and into a seat at the island. Spotting you, Michael scrambles into the chair next to yours and excitedly shows you the heart he made from fruit.

Sarah abandons her breakfast to come sit with you as well.

“Look Uncle Bucky. It's Y/N.”

He glances at you. “Yes, I can see.”

“Did you know Uncle Bucky's really good at cooking Y/N?” She pokes Joe as she moves to drape herself over your lap.

Her youngest brother nods enthusiastically at that. “And Mario Kart!”

You support Sarah as she swings her legs, her whole weight rest on your thighs. You're trying to work out how you can stop her talking because you're pretty sure you can see where this is going, as she continues, “And helping with homework. Oh, who else is good at that?” She glares at Michael while he ignores her, engrossed in his strawberries, so she asks Joe instead. “Who helped you make that cape for dress up time?”

“Y/N! Y/N is also really good at helping.”

Michael finally pays attention. “Hey! That was my line.”

“Doesn't matter, you can do the bit about how they're meant to be.”

He opens his mouth to talk but thankfully Peggy steps in. “All right you three, that's enough.”

You'd almost forgotten she and Steve were also in the room, and you flush even more than you had at the children's meddling as you realise their parents witnessed everything that just went on. Maybe you could play it off as kids interpreting things incorrectly? Up until now you hadn't even considered the practicalities of your crush on Bucky being realised, and now it's clear that you really should have thought about how it would work out in reality.

Your panic is interrupted by Sarah, who's less than pleased she didn't get to finish her little game. “But Mummy-”

“No. Please just finish your breakfast so we can go out.”

She slides off of you and sulkily picks at the end of her pancake, but cheers up quickly when she watches a very pink Bucky plate up your breakfast and place it in front of you without making eye contact.

 

***

 

When they've finally finished, Sarah, Michael and Joe are sent to get their shoes and you volunteer to do the washing up despite it being your day off, half to let Steve and Peggy go help their children, and half to keep yourself busy. It's a nice day so you don't actually mind standing in the sun as you start to clean the dishes. A particularly stubborn spot of burned-on food keeps your attention for a minute, and when you look up and out of the window again you are greeted by a mouthwatering view.

Bucky, minus his shirt, is walking out into the sunshine on the decking, appearing unaware of you staring as he stretches for his workout and then starts with sit ups. It's really unfair how good he looks. His skin is glistening and even though you can't hear him you can imagine the grunts he's making every time he pulls back up. As you watch him sweat, you lose track of everything and end up scrubbing the same pan for five minutes.

You didn't hear the door opening, so you're unaware anyone else is there until Peggy's voice sounds from behind you. “You know, I think he's doing it on purpose.”

You spin round to face her, soap suds flying as you raise the saucepan in defence.

She looks amused. “It's just me.” You lower your weapon of choice and apologise profusely. “It's okay, I should have seen you were distracted.”

Peggy seems to be smirking at you and you're confused. And then you glance back outside and realise what she's suggesting.

“What did you say before?” You hadn't understood her and you hope for a change of subject.

“I said, I think he's doing that deliberately.” Joining you at the window she points at Bucky, who is now in the middle of press ups.

“Doing what?”

Peggy turns to face you fully. “He knows you can see, so he's really stepped it up. The lack of shirt is completely unnecessary.

Your fish out of water impression is really quite good, because that is exactly how you feel.

“I didn't see it before but Sarah was completely right. She's hoping you finally stumble into a confession soon.”

“Confession?”

“Please Y/N. If a nine year old can see it I'd say it's pretty obvious.”

Realising you haven't got anywhere to run, you slump against the counter. “I'm so sorry.”

“What for?”

“Everything!” You're trying not to act to rattled, but end up admitting it all. “It's incredibly unprofessional to think about dating a guy who lives with your employer.”

“You can't just not date because you live here.”

“But I should have kept a friendly distance with him. He's literally right across the hall!”

She considers that. “As long as it didn't affect your work, I don't have a problem with you and him being together. And neither does Steve. Bucky's happiness means so much to all of us.”

Despite yourself you feel a glimmer of hope at her statement. “You think he'd even want that?”

“Sarah's always talking about the way you look at each other. I'd say there's more there than physical attraction.”

You desperately hope she's right, but that doesn't change the fact that there's so many ways it could be disastrous. “This is such a mess, I'm sorry.”

“You haven't done anything wrong. And you can't help who you fall in love with.”

You choke at that. “I'm not in love!”

“Of course you're not,” is all the response you get before Bucky steps through the door, breathless.

You both watch as he grabs some water from the fridge, and you have to avert your gaze when he takes a long drink and some of the liquid drips down his neck.

Deciding the pan your holding is probably as clean as it's ever going to get, you rinse it off and drain the sink, then wipe your hands on a tea towel and face the others again. Bucky and Peggy seem to be in the middle of a silent conversation, complete with hand gestures and raised eyebrows, and they both look exasperated. When they don't acknowledge you, you laugh and excuse yourself.

Back in the safety of your room you flop onto your bed overwhelmed, not helped by the fact that your sheets smell like his cologne. Situations like this don't actually happen in real life, or in your life at least, and you have no idea how to react so you quickly pat down your pockets for your phone.

Maybe for once you actually do need Natasha's advise.

 

***

 

“So, you need a game play for how you're going to seduce Bucky?”

Your phone is on speaker and you fall over your self to mute it. You're grateful your door is closed but it's not like the room is soundproof, so you put down your clean washing and fall back on the duvet, deciding that it's safer not to try and multi-task if Natasha's going to be so blunt.

Wanda is also there, having stayed over at Natasha's place, but she's suffering from a hangover and not really up to giving potentially life changing advice at the moment.

Not that Nat is much help herself.

“Honestly, why do I even bother coming to you?” She makes an offended sound, and you laugh as she starts to rant. “I'm not saying you're not a good friend! Just, you severely underestimate my ability to be seductive. I'm never going to be able seduce anyone, let alone him.”

Wanda's tired voice pipes up in the background. “You could seduce Bucky in your gardening overalls and wellies Y/N. I saw the way he looked at you yesterday, he's completely enamoured.”

Natasha agrees and you sigh. What you really need to do now is talk to someone who knows Bucky as well as you do, so you tell them you're going to speak to Sam.

They let you go, but not before Natasha makes you swear to call them immediately if anything happens with Bucky. “Well maybe not straight away, thinking about it. At least wait 'til you've finished fu-”

“Goodbye Natasha!”

Hanging up you throw your phone beside you on your bed but less than a minute later you're picking it up again to answer another call.

“Sam?”

“Wanda texted, said you needed something.”

You had wanted to delay this a tiny bit longer, but maybe it's better to get it over with. “Can I ask you something.” He agrees, so you take a deep breath. “Do you think Bucky likes me. Like, more than a friend?”

You have to hold the phone away from your ear as he bursts out laughing. Sam's reaction is unexpected, and you're a little offended, really, so you end up just opening and closing your mouth soundlessly as you listen to him try to calm down. “I'm sorry! But, are you serious? Seriously serious?”

“Why? What has he said?”

“You know I can't tell you that. But I can say that he doesn't shut up about you. If I didn't know you already I would have thought he'd made you up, because surely no one can be that 'perfect'.”

A rare surge of confidence fills you when he says that, so you sit up and smooth down your jumper.

“I'm going to talk to him now.”

“Oh, wow, go Y/N! Good luck.”

“I'm going to need it.”

“No, actually, no you are not. Just be honest and open with him. He deserves to be happy just as much as anyone, and you two are quite possibly the most compatible people I've ever met.”

You'd trust Sam with your life, and he knows what he's talking about being so close to the both of you, so you believe that when he says that it's not just to make you feel better. With that thought you say your goodbyes and end the call.

When you enter the corridor you see Bucky's back in his room, so before you can talk yourself out of it you're knocking on his door and asking if he wants to go into the garden with you so you can 'talk'.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/)!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... Happily ever after?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the final! Finally! Thank you for sticking with it <3 <3 <3

 

Your anxiousness causes you to walk much faster than usual and even over the short distance from the house to the garden, Bucky ends up slightly left behind. With shaky limbs you drop onto the bench to wait, counting your breaths in and out.

When he arrives he sits close enough that you can feel his body heat as he meets your eye and smiles uncertainly.

“You wanted to talk?”

Swallowing, you're painfully reminded why you've never had a conversation like this. You feel sick and the thought of just walking away and not continuing down this one way road is quite tempting, but the tension between the two of you has become unbearable and you can't deny the electricity in the air every time you so much as make eye contact, so you need to do something about it.

One way or another.

The two of you sit in silence as you collect your thoughts. The leaves on the bush growing through the side of the seat are being stripped off as you try to find the right words, and you giggle nervously when he places a hand over yours to stop you destroying more of the plant.

Dropping your handful of foliage, you take a deep breath and decide to just go for it, like ripping off a plaster.

“I was thinking about what Sarah said earlier, about what a lot of people have said recently, and I need you to know that I like you, Bucky. A lot. I like you a lot.”

There. You had said it. Well, half said it. It wasn't eloquently put but as it was your first go it was all right, and your heart beats loudly in your chest as you stare wide-eyed at him, willing him to understand.

He leans away to put some space between the two of you. “Are you telling me so it doesn't get awkward?”

“What?”

“Have I read all the signs wrong?”

“I don't-”

“I'm sorry. I'll back off.” He rises and steps away from the bench. “Of course you only want to be friends. Why would someone like you want to be with a guy like me?”

Oh. Oh no. He's got it completely the wrong way around but before you can correct him he's walking away, muttering; “Trust me to fall for someone just because they're fucking nice to me.”

“No!” You rush after him, grabbing his sleeve and spinning him back around to face you. “You didn't get it wrong. When I said I liked you I meant as more than a friend. So much more. I'm sorry, I'm not very good at this.”

The wind in the leaves is the only sound after you finish talking. His face is a mix of emotions as he takes it in, squinting at you in the sunshine.

“So you weren't saying you like me, but only as a friend?”

“Of course not!”

“Really?”

“Yes. You know I'm attracted to you, you asked me!”  

“Attraction doesn't equal affection, Y/N.”

“In this case it does.”

His shoulders relax a bit and he takes a step towards you, reaching for your hand.

“Even with my past, the nightmares, and everything? Even with the way I am?”

You nod, eyes suddenly watery. “Because of the way you are.”

“Oh, thank fuck.”

Then he's closing the gap between you and sweeping you off your feet into his arms, spinning the both of you around. Laughing delightedly as you cling to him, he sets you down before you can get dizzy and holds you tight.

You can feel the way he's shaking as he hugs you close, burying his face in your neck but that doesn't hide his tears, and you melt into him at his reaction. You manage to twist yourself so you can offer him a tissue and he apologises as he wipes his eyes, never letting go of you.

Then you're hit by reality. You had done it. You had confessed your feelings and had a positive outcome, exactly the response you'd hope for and now, for the first time ever, you were being held tightly by the guy you liked. Liked a lot. More than you had liked anyone before, which was slightly terrifying, but you knew you were safe with Bucky.

He stops sniffing and pulls you impossibly closer. You arms wind up around his waist, under his jacket so you can feel his warmth through his t-shirt as he rest his head against your hair. He hums contentedly as you sway together.

“You know, people generally kiss before they confess their love for each other.”

He catches himself too late and you pull away from him in shock.

“Love?”

He gazes over your shoulder. “Fuck, um-”

“Please don't take it back if you mean it.” You place a hand on his cheek to turn him to you.

“Do you want me to mean it?”

Did you? No one had ever said that to you before, but you trust he's being sincere when he says it. You smile up at him “I do. So, do you mean it?”

“Yes. For at least a week now.” You frown so he explains. “I realised I was in love with you when you came to find me in that park. I think I knew before but that was when it all became clear. That's why I needed to tell you everything, so if I was ever brave enough to confess my feelings there wouldn't be any secrets, but you,” he bops your nose, grinning, “you beat me too that, didn't you?”

Your breath had caught when he said 'I was in love', and the rest of his sentence made you weak at the knees and desperate for his touch.

“I think you should kiss me now.”

You watch him swallow and drop his line of sight to your lips. As he leans in you close your own eyes, gasping at the first tentative press of his mouth against yours. You're still a little shy with each other despite everything and it continues like that for half a minute, but then something clicks and it's as if you can't get close enough to each other.

And this, well, this is new. You thought you'd been kissed before, you thought you'd been kissed by _Bucky_ before, but nothing has ever been quite like this. This is like flying and then falling, but he's here to catch you and make it feel like nothing else in the world matters apart from being here.

Your head is spinning as he takes control, but you don't miss the soft moans he's making, the sound causing a rush of heat to flow through your whole body. When he sucks on your bottom lip you open up straight away and, when his tongue meets yours, you hazily realise this is further than you ever went _that night_. This is all new between the two of you and the thought has you grinning into the kiss so hard you have to break away.

His eyes are still closed as he rests his forehead against yours, and he only opens them when you tuck some of his hair behind his ear, thick lashes making the blue look even more intense up close.

You play with his collar. “We have kissed before, but not like that.”

“I don't think I've ever kissed anyone like that.” You bite your lip to stop yourself just jumping him again, and he drags it back out with his thumb, his voice thick as he whispers, “Don't do that, fuck.”

Your heart is beating erratically and being chest to chest with Bucky, you can feel his is too, which is very reassuring.

“Anyway,” he gets back on topic,  “That didn't count. You were a little drunk.”

“And you weren't?”

“No. I didn't want to go out in the first place. I was going to go early, but I saw you, and I didn't want to leave 'til I got your name.”

You're absent-mindedly fiddling with his jackets zip. “You kissed me before you got it,” you point out.

“I do seem to do everything backwards when it comes to you.”

You nod in agreement. “We both do. So, when you said I wasn't your type...”

He doesn't look pleased you remember that so he kisses you once more, showing you just how untrue that statement from weeks ago was. He tastes like chocolate and mint and you think you're heart may explode with how happy you feel right now, how at peace you are with Bucky, and how perfectly it all worked out in the end.

When you break away again you have another question. “Were you going to kiss me this morning?”

“I wanted to. But I think it's better like this.”

“Yeah?”

“So much better.”

“And do you normally eat ice cream post naked workouts?”

He chokes on his laughter, leaning in to run his nose up your neck. “Wasn't quite naked, was I?” He looks back at you, blushing. “And how do you know about the ice cream?”

You press a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth. “You taste like it.”

“There's still loads left so Joe isn't going to miss out.”

“How considerate of you.” He leans in again but you stop him with a finger to his lips, so he nips at that instead. “Speaking of Joe, what did he say to you yesterday?”

You don't specify a time but you can tell he knows when you mean. “I don't remember.”

“You absolutely do. Please?” You pout, and he scoffs lightly, but isn't able to resist the way you're looking at him.

“He said I should tell you I love you, because then there could be lots of kissing.”

“That's not that bad.”

“And then lots of making babies.”

You have to cover your mouth as you gape at him, giggling in horror and embarrassment. “I don't think he meant it like that.”

“No. Fuck, I hope not. It just caught me off guard.”

You lick your lips, smug when he tracks the movement. “I do enjoy lots of kissing though.”

He smirks. “That's good. And I still think you need to get laid.”

“Oh? You going to help?”

His grip on your hips tightens. “Your bed yeah? Much more comfy.”

Your breathing becomes slightly laboured at the thought. He stares at your mouth for a few seconds, then shakes himself and takes your face in his hands so you're looking at him directly.

“But I need you to understand that I never-I didn't ever take anyone home with me when I was going through that rough stage after I came back.”

“So you haven't since..?”

“No. I wouldn't have tried to go home with you. I just liked the comfort of kissing.” He shows you again how much he still does, leaving you breathless when he moves back. “But I wouldn't have taken it any further. So it may take me a little time to be comfortable enough to be intimate. Sorry.”

“There's no need to be sorry.”

You pull his into another kiss to reassure him and he relaxes into it immediately. One of his arms slips around your waist to support your body as, lips not leaving yours, he dips you, an over the top gesture that almost has you rolling your eyes at his ridiculousness.

But he wouldn't be Bucky if he wasn't.

Then the french-windows creak open and you reluctantly straighten up to watch the entire Carter-Rogers family spill into the garden with you. Flustered, you try to push away from Bucky but he doesn't relinquish his hold on you as all three children rush up to you and wrap themselves around your legs. Steve and Peggy look on apologetically as Bucky drops his head to your shoulder to catch his breath.

They're all speaking at once but you manage to catch Michael's heartfelt, “I'm so happy you're happy,” which means a lot to you.

“Come on everyone, let them be.” Steve sounds like he knows it won't be that easy so you try to please everyone.

“Do you want us to come with you today?”

The children's reaction clearly means yes so you glance towards their parents, who look relieved at your offer as Peggy gathers up her children and pushes them towards the door. “We'll wait for you outside.”

They leave, and Bucky turns to you. “Don't you mind, spending your day off with them?”

“This isn't a normal job, it doesn't feel like work so no, I don't mind.”

Nodding, he kisses you again, soundly, leaving you slightly dazed. “I just needed to do that one more time before we leave.”

He turns to follow the others, but as his shoe laces are undone, he trips over them and ends up sprawled on his back on the grass. You kneel, hands hovering over him as you try to keep a straight face.

Bucky blows a piece of hair out of his face. “I guess you could say I've fallen for you."

You purse your lips to keep from snorting, because you're about to confess something very serious, something that you've been thinking about since the car ride back on Thursday. “I think you could also say I'm falling for you.”

And there's that smile again, the one that makes him look like he's never had anything bad happen in his life, and you squeal as he drags you down to hug you tight, still lying on the ground. A long forgotten memory surfaces as you fall against his chest and you can't keep your composure as you remember the very first conversation you had with your friends about Bucky.

You laugh weakly into his shoulder and he groans unhappily. “Don't worry, I'm not laughing at you, just something Natasha said _that night_.”

“She's the redhead, right? She scares me.”

“She scares me too, but she's the best friend I've ever had.” You prop yourself up above him. “Can I ask you one last question?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you say your name was James? Do you prefer it?”

He pauses before he answers. “I don't really know. I guess, James is a lot more common than Bucky so it was a way to protect myself, maybe?”

Your heart breaks when he says that and your distress must show on your face. “Oh, Y/N, don't look at me like that. I'm fine.”

He sits up a bit to capture your mouth again, very effectively shutting up your thoughts and worries, and when it ends you feel giddy with joy.

Standing, you help him rise too and brush a few blades of grass on his clothes, then allow him to lead you through the house and out the front door to where the rest are waiting patiently.

You all start to meander in the general direction of the park, and Bucky gestures towards Sarah who is rattling a scooter over the paving slabs. “I think she must have known I liked you ages ago. She was very insistent I knew all about how you calmed her nerves before some sort of school presentation.”

“That was... That was the day after we met!”

“She's very perceptive.”

“So, you never really hated me?”

“I couldn't! I mean look at you doll, you're gorgeous.” He smirks as your face heats up. “And then I got to know you, and, well, I didn't stand a chance did I?”

You tug him back to steal a kiss, not caring if anyone, or everyone, is watching. This time you're both smiling too much so it doesn't last long but that's okay. There's a whole lifetime for more.

Starting the walk again, Bucky's arm winds up around your shoulder, pulling you into his side and pressing another kiss to your forehead.

You grin up at him. “Happy?”

Bucky glances forward to his family, at Michael and Sarah who are racing ahead, and Joe who's being swung between his parents, before looking back at you and sliding his hand down to link your fingers together.

“Completely.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! :)
> 
> A/n: there was a lot of references in this part to things that happened in previous chapters, right back to the start, so I apologise if you didn't remember then! But they were vague, so I hope it didn't spoil you're enjoyment of it <3
> 
> Also, I think I got away with the 'making babies' line ever though this is a gender neutral fic, because Joe is four and would only understand 'when two people love each other very much...' in terms of where babies come from. So, I hope that's okay!
> 
> A/n 2: I was going to maybe write an epilogue but I'm not sure any more so I'm going to thank everyone here... So, deep breath, thank you! Very much! Special thanks to everyone who's been here from the beginning, for sticking through to the end, it's only been a month and a half but it feels much longer! Also, equally special thanks to those who took a chance on it when it was 6/7/8 (or more!) chapters through :) Seeing the notifications as you read each chapter was lovely, and I hope you didn't regret it! And anyone who's commented! They are so (too) kind and I'm incredibly grateful for all your feedback <3 It has meant so much and kept me motivated! Thank you! I don't really know what I'm doing (ever, but also when it comes to writing) so I'm relieved people have enjoyed it! I love this world I've created, it's cosy and safe, and has one thing my life will never - Bucky ;) So I'm sad to leave it but it's been a blast and this little family will live forever more in my heart (oh my gosh that was a lame thing to say! But very true)
> 
> I'm rambling and I may cry because this is 30k-ish words of frustration and synonym searches and random notes saved on my phone that later made no sense and without it I'm a little lost... I kinda never want to write a series again because it quite stressful to not leave too long a gap between each post, and also to remember what has happened in previous parts! But I have loved how I could build up the relationship, and how much more complicated the plot can be when it's longer, so I don't really know what to do next. More Bucky though ;) Always more Bucky <3
> 
> Right, this thank you is almost as long as the actual chapter, so I'll shut up now! :)
> 
>  
> 
> **tldr; Thank you for reading, you're amazing! <3 **
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/)!


	13. Epilogue 1/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue Part 1: Three months later.

“No, shoes off before you come in!”

The commotion at the front door has you looking up from your book. It is the final Sunday before Christmas and Steve and Peggy have been away at a last minute conference, leaving you to look after the children all weekend, which was fine, but Bucky insisted that you should have your day off anyway. You had tried to argue that you really didn't mind, but he just tucked a blanket around you on your bed and shut you up with a kiss.

You aren't sure you'll ever get used to his kisses.

In the last few months a lot has changed, not least him practically moving into your room, and you are incredibly relieved it doesn't feel like you have to hide your relationship or tone down the affection in front of the others. Because Bucky is incredibly affectionate. It's like now he has permission to touch you, he doesn't want to let go, and you love him even more for it.

You can't hear him with the children greeting Peggy and Steve, who got home ten minutes ago, and when he doesn't immediately come and see you, you consider going to investigate why. However, you're too comfortable so you decide to wait a little longer before moving.

You manage to read a whole chapter before he appears in the door way. His skin is flushed from the shower, and even though it's only just gone four in the afternoon he's wearing pyjama's, making you smile softly at the adorable sight.

“Room for a little one?”

“Always.” You uncross your legs and he collapses next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he lays his head in your lap. “But you are in no way little.”

“Hmm, you would know.”

Smacking his shoulder gently, your attempt to hold in your laughter fails when Bucky looks up at you, grinning cheekily. His smile slips as he yawns. Nudging his head against your thigh, he whines until you relent and card your fingers through his hair.

“I'm so tired.” He sounds it. “Shopping with children on the last weekend before Christmas, who's idea was that?”

“Yours.”

“Oh yeah. Well, I'm an idiot then.”

“If I'd come along-”

“No. You deserve a rest after this week.”

You think about the school play costumes you'd had to alter, the last day of term early finishes that had messed up your schedule, and then the rush to get all three children home to be sure you were there for when the gifts Bucky had ordered arrived, and begrudgingly agree.

“So you don't fancy coming with me to get them all new school shoes next week?”

The noise he lets out suggests not. “Why do they need new shoes already?”

“Apart from the small matter that they're all growing? They do walk half a mile every day just to get to and back from school, and all the running around in the playground adds up.”

“That's my clever Y/N.” Bucky turns in your touch, staring up at you sleepily. “I don't know how you do it. I mopped the floor where Michael got it muddy, and now all I want to do is lie down.”

“I felt like that my first week. You get used to it.”

“Will I though?”

“Why? Are you planning to steal my job?”

“I mean when I start work in January? Will I cope?”

“Oh Bucky.” You shift so you're laying beside him. “Of course you will.”

“Today was so stressful though. I love them, obviously I do, but what if the school feels like that?”

“Well, for a start, you won't be dealing with three under tens, excited that it's Christmas in less than a week.”

“But what-”

You don't let him continue down this path of self doubt. “Your role is more back of the classroom, isn't it? And yes, it may be a little tiring at first, but it helps that it's something you really want to do.”

His bottom lip is nearly being bitten through, so you place a hand on the side of his face and press your mouth to his until he kisses you back.

Leaning away you ask, “Do you believe you'll be okay?” You wait for him to nod. “And will you tell me if you're not?”

He nods again, more sure this time. “I do love them though, even when they tread mud right through the hallway. It's just today was...”

“Intense?”

“A little.”

You run a hand though the hair that has flopped forward over his face. “Have I mentioned how much I love you yet this evening?”

“Maybe. But you know how much I enjoy hearing you say it.”

“Well then, I love you Bucky Barnes.” He smiles at you like he does every time you say that, and it only gets brighter as you lean across to your night stand to offer him one of the snowman shaped cookies you'd baked earlier. “Merry Christmas.”

Before he takes one, he pulls you closer and presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he grins.

“Merry Christmas Y/N.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure if I was going to write an epilogue, but the idea just wouldn't leave me alone and I couldn't think of a way to make it in to a one shot, so here we go! I actually split it into three otherwise it would have been longer than any of the previous chapters... Part two tomorrow! :)


	14. Epilogue 2/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue Part 2: Ten months later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, 'ten months later' is ten months from chapter twelve, not the first part of the epilogue. It's 7 months from then :)

“You know, it's our anniversary today.”

Your hands still above the keyboard as Bucky props himself against the headboard. Staring at the very blank document of your 'masterpiece', you try to remember if you've recently knocked your head on something. if you've missed a couple of months by being unconscious, and that's why Bucky seems to think it the end of summer already.

You close the laptop. “I'm pretty sure that's in September?”

“Of when we met, I mean.” He repositions you so you're lying next to him and he can play with your hair. “It's a year ago this week.”

Mentally adding it up, you realise he's right.

It feels like a lifetime ago, but at the same time you can still clearly remember the pure terror you felt when you first saw him in the garden and the days you'd spent sneaking around the house to avoid bumping into him again.

“We had a bit of a weird start to our relationship, didn't we?”

“That was all my fault.”

“Bucky-”

“I know you wouldn't have said any of the things you did if I hadn't provoked you.”

“Maybe not.” You curl into his side. “Do you think it would have worked out like this if we had actually 'met five minute ago'?”

“You remember what I said?”

“It's burned into my brain.” He pouts and you grin at him, flipping his lip with your thumb. “It's not a bad thing! And please don't apologise again, I forgave you ages ago.”

“Still-”

“I've forgiven you.”

“Alright.” He pulls you a little closer. “And to answer your question, I have no idea. I do remember when Steve told me your name, I thought, 'please not the same Y/N'.”

“How rude!” You gasp as you poke his side, trying to keep a stern expression.

“You know what I mean! I know you weren't happy to see me again.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“But if I'm being honest,” he leans in so your noses bump, “After the initial panic had worn off I was actually ecstatic to find you again. But at that point I'd already messed it up, so then I felt even worse.”

It's your turn to pull a face, and when Bucky sees how that upsets you he kisses you, soft brushes of his mouth across yours. “Don't look like that, I was the one who went on to make it worse for myself.”

“That second morning, in the kitchen, I really thought you hated me.”

“Yeah. Sorry. But you didn't give up on me, even after I was so unnecessarily rude when all you did was offer me a lift.”

You link his fingers together with yours. “I was going to just ignore you after that, but then I had a change of heart.”

“That's because you're an absolute sweetheart, doll. I've never met someone so beautiful, inside and out.”

“This is fun. Let's talk more about how great I am.”

“Always pleased to,” he giggles, and then sits up suddenly, gently untangling your bodies. “I think now is a good time to reveal I've got something to show you.”

Watching as he hurries out of the bedroom, you wonder how you got so lucky. Despite how you finally got here, it's no exaggeration that these past ten months with him have been the best of your life. Every day he manages to surprise you with how much he cares, not only about you, but generally, and you hope this feeling of contentment never leaves.

When he returns he's clutching a large roll of paper. You kneel on the bed as he's spreads the pencil scribble filled sheets across the top of the covers, tilting your head as you try to decipher what the lines mean. He rearranges them into an order that still doesn't make sense, but you can recognise Bucky's handwriting on each page, mostly numbers which look like measurements.

Bucky pushes a match box along the duvet. “And this is for you.”

“You want me to set these on fire?”

“Open it.”

It doesn't rattle like it should when you shake it, sounding like there's only one object inside, which makes your heart stop. You glance back at Bucky.

“Don't worry, it's not that.” Taking the box back, he slides it apart for you. “Not yet at least.”

You peer into the bottom tray. “Why do I need another key?”

“This isn't just another key.” He picks it up and places it into your palm, folding your fingers closed over it. “This is a key for a lock yet to be fitted.”

“Oh. Are you building a house?”

“Not quite. Come here.” Holding out a hand to help you rise and stand beside him, he gestures at the shapes on the paper. “So here's a plan of this house. Here's your bedroom-”

“Our bedroom.”

He squeezes your hand. “Yeah, our bedroom.” Pointing at another rectangle, he continues, “And this is the bathroom, that won't change. But this wall, the one that separates the old office from the hall, that's not load bearing so it can come down. Then we can have a small kitchen-diner slash lounge.”

Squinting at the plans, the grip Bucky has on you tightens the longer you stay quiet, but you're finding it hard to process.

The cold metal in your other hand unfreezes your brain. “And where does this key come in to it?”

Bucky lets out a slow breath. “That is for the door to the rest of the house. I bought a proper lock for it instead of the bolt, so it would feel more official.”

You turn to face him, still in shock. “You drew this up by yourself?”

“Peggy and Steve helped.”

“So they're okay with it?”

“They suggested it.”

One year ago you'd accepted a job with a sweet family, but back then you didn't know just how lovely they really were, or how much working for them would entirely transform your life.

Thinking about it is overwhelming at times.

“Hey, hey, don't cry.” He brushes a thumb below your eye to catch the stray tears. “Is it too soon? I know we seem to do everything a bit ba-”

“No! No, oh my gosh come here.” You pull him down to kiss, clinging to the collar of his shirt when he deepens it, twisting the both of you so you're pressed against the wall behind you.

Breathing unevenly when you separate, he cups your face. “Do you like the idea?”

“I love it. Like I love you.”

He picks you up, squishing you into his front as he mumbles his usual response of: “Love you more.”

Relaxing in his arms, you breathe in his scent as you listen to his heart race, waiting for the bubble to burst and someone to tell you this perfect life you're living is just a dream.

But luckily for you it's not.

Still trapped in his embraced, you peak over his shoulder at the many sheets of paper.

“It looks like a lot of work. Who's going to do it?”

“Me.”

“You? Oh.”

“Don't act so surprised Y/N! I'm sure a bit of basic plumbing and painting isn't beyond me. And the children have already volunteered to help knock the wall down. Safely, obviously,” he adds at your wince.

“I trust you will be.”

“And I have all summer free, so plenty of time.”

Bucky has excelled at his job, and is quickly becoming everyone's favourite in the staff room, a fact that's not hard to notice whenever you visit him at lunch time. But even though he is enjoying it you can tell he's looking forward to a break.

“Are you sure you want to spend your time off doing that?”

“Of course. I'll be under your feet if I don't have anything to do. It can be my summer project.”

“Like the children have! Do you expect sticker rewards too?”

Laughing as he shakes his head, he kisses you slowly, dragging your bottom lip into his mouth almost obscenely before he pulls away and makes you fall in love all over again.

“Being with you, that's reward enough.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three soon! :) (I said this would be up yesterday, and saying I will do something and then not doing it is the story of my freaking life, so, hopefully by the end of the week.)  
> [Tumblr](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/)!


	15. Epilogue 3/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue Part 3: Two years later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really is the end now!  
> And just to be clear, 'two years later' is two years from chapter twelve, not the second part of the epilogue.

 

Sarah sits in front of you before the mirror in her room, patiently reading a book as you attempt to style her hair so it resembles the photos she's shown you, a simple enough design on paper. But in reality it's not happening as easily as you hoped.

You're unwinding the last braid and pulling the bands out for the third time when she meets your eye.

“Would you still be our nanny if you and Uncle Bucky weren't a couple any more?”

A cold flush washes over you as you take in her question. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” she shrugs, going back to her book, barely reading two words before she's looking up again. “But would you?”

Putting the comb down, you shuffle around so you are sat face to face. “Sarah, why are you asking?”

“Just wondering. I think I don't really need a nanny so much now I'm so old-”

“You're eleven.”

“Exactly. But Joe's still a baby so we'll still need someone to look after him. And I don't want you to leave any way. So, would you stay?”

What does she know that you don't? “Why do you think we're not going to be together? Did-did you hear us arguing?”

The way Sarah's face falls convinces you she hadn't. “No! Oh dear, what were you arguing about?”

Comparatively to other people your first fight with Bucky last month was pretty tame. It started after you'd been on the website for Bucky's school, looking at the adorable photos from the trip he'd volunteered as chaperon for, and stumbled across the advert for a new science teacher. When you had suggested he apply it escalated very quickly. He ended up walking out, leaving you in tears at the kitchen table, but he'd come back two minutes later equally upset and apologised.

Even though it was over so fast you never want to repeat that experience. But in the end it all worked out because he had applied and next week he'll be the newest addition to the full time staff.

You try to summarise it for Sarah.

“But he did his teacher training, in that evening course thingy! Why did he do that and then not want to be a teacher?”

You begin to brush her hair again. “I think he was slightly-”

“Scared?”

“Maybe. It is such a big jump from his old job.”

“I think Uncle Bucky doesn't think he's good enough sometimes.” It breaks your heart that she's picked up on that. “And I think that's why he's nervous to ask you.”

“Ask me what?”

“Nothing!”

She jumps up, forcing you to follow to finish pinning the loose strands in place. You want to know what she's talking about but before you can get a word out she's running from the room and down the stairs. You trail after her, grabbing the new hair clips Bucky had given her for her birthday a couple months ago, and descend to the living room where her parents have just arrived home. Getting a suddenly very excited Sarah to stand still is an effort, but eventually you're able to slide the sparkly space themed accessories into her hair and when she checks it out in the mirror over the fire place she must deem it more than acceptable judging by the hug you receive.

She can squeeze you a little harder now she's older but you don't mind one bit.

It is such a pleasant surprise that the two boys are already waiting to leave, actually ready for once before their parents, in anticipation of the family's weekly 'treat'. Standing on the front steps, you wave until they turn the corner and disappear from view, and then go and hunt down Bucky who's been conspicuously absent all afternoon. Now the house isn't full of children's chatter you can hear the crashing from behind the door to your little 'apartment', and you frown when you turn the handle only to find it locked.

You shout his name louder than you mean to in your worry, and he opens the door immediately, covered in what you think is flour, hair a tangle on top of his head.

“Um, can I come in?”

He moves to block your view. “Nope! But if you need anything, I'll get it for you. Phone? Book? Another jumper?”

“No, no, I'm good. What are you doing in there?” You try to see around him but he closes the door more so you can hardly see him, let alone any thing else. “Are you making a mess?”

He wrinkles his nose. “Maybe a bit. I'll clean it up, promise! Now you need to go relax for an hour, or two, probably. Don't worry, everything's fine.”

He slips through the gap in the door to kiss you briefly before disappearing back inside. He doesn't lock it this time, trusting you to adhere to his wishes, which you do reluctantly, moving back to the living room and flopping down on the sofa.

As the bangs and crashes start up again, Sarah's words about Bucky being nervous come back to you, and your mind goes over all the incidences in the past week where he'd been strange with you; distant, distracted, unlike himself.

The time crawls and you start to believe you should be worried too.

 

***

 

Exactly ninety seven minutes later Bucky comes to find you. You know this because you've been staring at the clock in the corner of the TV, stuck on the news channel because you can't bring yourself to move and change it, instead just counting the seconds as they tick away. You're so deep in your own thoughts that he has to stand directly in your eye line to get your attention, and even then he needs to wave a hand in your face to finally make you look at him. You slowly turn your focus back to him. Bucky's changed, now wearing a clean outfit rather than half of whatever he was making, and he has also managed to neaten his hair, but you can't appreciate how good he looks because you feel sick.

“Are you breaking up with me?” You hadn't planned to just ask outright like that, but in the last hour and a half you've had more than enough time to think of plenty of reasons why he would want to end this.

You really need to know if any of them are true.

“Am I what?” Bucky opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, staring at you. “No! Y/N? No. Where's this come from?”

“You're being weird, and Sarah seems to think, that maybe...”

“Seems to think what?” Bucky coaxes gently, stroking your hair as he crouches before you.

You shrug shakily. “She asked if I'd still be their nanny if we broke up. How am I meant to interpret that?”

To your surprise he chuckles. “I don't know if I should be offended by that. I didn't realise she had such little faith in my ability to not mess this up.”

“Mess what up?”

Instead of answering he just takes your arm to help you up, leading you through the house towards the back door. The blinds on the french-windows are closed, and Bucky carefully positions you directly in front of them, and then flings them open in a dramatic fashion to reveal the completely transformed garden.

Fairy lights, everywhere. Some you recognise, others that you don't, strung across the patio and up the trellis against the wall, as well as around the branches of the cherry tree above the flickering fire pit. On the table beneath the lit up leaves, candles dance. The path from the decking is illuminated by the lanterns you'd bought for that exact purpose, finally laid out and looking even better than your thought they would, the perfect finishing touches to the summer grotto.

It is such a pretty scene.

But prettiest of all is Bucky, standing quietly in the doorway as you take it in, watching and waiting for your reaction.

“Did you buy the flamingo lights yourself?” You ask, genuinely interested.

That evidently wasn't the response he expected. “Err, yes? Why?”

“They're cute. Very you,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes then tackles you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you into his chest. He tilts you forward and you squeak, face too close to the grass for your liking, but in a practised move you've yet to get used to he spins you in his arms so your staring up at him.

“I hope you mean I'm cute like they are?”

You reach up and stroke the back of your hand across his cheek. “Definitely.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but then he can no longer hold the faux glower and a wide smile breaks out on his face. “Apart from the flamingos, do you like it?”

“I do like the flamingos! And I love the rest too.” He helps you stand straight again. “How long did it take you?”

“Not that long really. Michael and Joe helped. And Sarah was meant to distract you.”

You hit his shoulder. “Oh my gosh, no! Was that why she made me do that horribly complicated braid?”

“I just told her to keep you busy.” He kisses you properly for the first time today, soft lips making you forget everything for a second. “Was it worth it?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“Completely. What's it for though?”

“Dinner.”

“Very fancy for dinner?”

“Well, it is a very fancy dinner.” Walking you to the terrace, he slides a chair away from the table and helps you into it. “Made by yours truly, and when are they anything but?”

 

***

 

Of course the food he prepares is amazing, because it's Bucky and everything he ever does is, but somehow he manages to out do himself this time with the most delicious pudding.

“How did you get the middle to be all runny like that?”

“A lot of practice. And a lot of failure.”

Giggling around the last spoonful, you notice he's not as into it as you are. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I do.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It's just I, I didn't realise I'd be so nervous.”

“Nervous about what?”

Shaking his head, he waits until you finish your mouthful, and you rise too when moves to stand in front of you. Guiding you on to the lawn he stops in the middle, positioning you so you're facing him and he's silhouetted by all the lights.

“I hope you know how lucky I feel every day to be with you,” he begins, staring straight at you. “I never thought I'd get to be this happy, Y/N. I never imagined I find someone like you, or that, if I did, that they'd be patience enough to deal with all the baggage I come with.”

“I don't think I can possibly tell you just how much I appreciate you, how much I need you, how much I love you.” He swallows thickly, then lowers himself to one knee. “So here I am trying to show you.”

As your breath catches your hand comes to cover your mouth, eyes watering. It's such a clichéd reaction, but there is always an element of truth in how the movies depict these sort of situations, and Bucky looks every bit the romantic lead kneeling before you.

You feel light-headed as you watch him fumble in his pocket, producing a velvet box.

“My heart has been yours for so long, maybe even before I knew your name.” He grins up at you and you choke on a laugh as your eyes fill even more. “The last two years have been more than I deserve, but I must be doing something right to make you happy, and I want to continue to do whatever that is for the rest of my life.”

The lid is flicked open with shaky hands, the bright diamond flashing at you as he takes a deep breath.

“I can't imagine my life without you by my side, so, if you'll have me Y/N, make me even happier and please marry me?”

His face is blurry as tears stream down your own, but you can see how pale he's gone waiting for your answer. Blinking to clear your vision, you hold your left hand out to him, trembling just as much as he is. He squints at you, and you nod once, your breath coming in shallow gasps as he slides the ring out of the cushioning and on to your finger. He rises to his full height again, staring in disbelief at where your hand is resting in his.

“So is that a yes?”

“It's absolutely a yes!”

 

You throw yourself into his arms, squealing as he catches you easily and twirls you around, still very emotional, but he's crying too. Your happy tears mix together as he places you back down on your feet and pushes his forehead against yours.

“You said yes.”

“I did.”

“You said yes.”

“Oh Bucky.” Using your sleeve to dry his eyes, you whisper, “Of course I did.”

“I love you so much it hurts,” he breathes into your hair, hugging you tight.

Swaying your body with his, he slowly loosens his grip enough so you can see the radiant look on his face.

He gazes at you too until his attention is diverted to your lips. “I haven't kissed my fiancé yet.”

You grin at each other at the use of the term 'fiancé'.

“Suppose you'll have to do something about-”

Surging forward and not letting you finish your sentence, he cups your face, kissing you so enthusiastically you have to take a step back to steady yourself. Every kiss is special but this one feels even more so, a promise of forever underneath the passion.

It's almost standard practice now for him to dip you, hands automatically sliding into his hair as he supports your weight and shows you in probably the best way he can how in love he is.

Just as his fingers slips under your top to touch the bare skin at your waist the door bell rings. It sounds again and you pull away, patting his chest apologetically when he tries to chase your mouth. He doesn't let you go completely though, arms around your waist so you have to practically drag him behind you through the house to open the front door.

The sight you're met with is unexpected. “Michael?”

You can feel Bucky tense when you move to reveal his nephew, breathless, and standing alone on the porch. He shouldn't be on his own, so it's a great relief to you both when Peggy and Steve appear over the horizon.

“I ran all the way up the road,” Michael pants, “so I could see if you said yes!”

You can only blink at him, because of course he did. Michael and Sarah also appear out of breath at the bottom of the steps, and you snort, mumbling, “This feels familiar.”

“Get rid of them,” Bucky whines against your shoulder, but his body is shaking with laughter as he presses it into the side of yours.

“You love them.”

You can feel him smile, nipping at your neck. “I do. But is every significant moment going to interrupted by them?”

“Apparently so,” you reply, allowing them a view of your hand and laughing when they all scream and bombard you with questions and hugs, pushing you and Bucky even closer together.

He picks his head up when they start to calm, staring Sarah down. “Hey, trouble. Did you really think Y/N would say no? And if that was the answer, we'd break up?”

Sarah raises her arms in an unapologetic gesture. “I was just working through all the possible outcomes.” She tugs at your hand to see the ring again, confessing to you, “I also asked Uncle Bucky if he'd leave if you didn't want to marry him.”

You snicker, turning to face him. “And what did you say to that?”

“I told her that would be up to you. And it was also none of her business.”

“I didn't think Y/N would say no,” Joe pipes up and Bucky beams at him.

“Thank you! I knew there was a reason you're my favourite.”

The other two make noises of protest, and he sticks his tongue out at them to show he's joking.

As their parents offer your their congratulations, the children spot the garden transformed into a sort of wonderland, and as there is nothing you can do to stop them rushing in to see it you let them go.

Michael is adamant that his parents should also see the lights he helped display, and you insist that you don't mind them invading your privacy as you follow them onto the grass. But you are very grateful to them for quickly collecting their children and leaving you in peace.

Bucky grabs you around your waist when you move towards the door. “Aren't we going in?”

“In a minute. I just need to kiss you again.”

You nod, giggling. “I always need to kiss you again.”

Far too soon Bucky breaks away again to catch his breath and you take the opportunity to think how far you've come. The last two and a bit years have been the most eventful of your existence, but you wouldn't change them for the world.

It really does feel like life can't get any better.

And, when he takes you by your left hand to stroke over the ring, grinning lazily at you in the soft light, you find yourself thanking every single star in the sky for the creation of James Buchanan Barnes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said it before, but this really is the end! I think this ending concludes it a little better than if I hadn't written the epilogue, and I feel less sad leaving it because I think it's complete now, so I hope other people liked it too <3 I would like to thank everyone again, especially those who've binge-read it all in the last few weeks! But equally those who've been here a while, I posted the first chapter two months ago today so that's a nice round number... <3  
> More Bucky soon! [Tumblr](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/)!

**Author's Note:**

> More on [tumblr](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/)!


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